


From the Depths

by ThisWasInevitable



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Campaign: Amnesty (The Adventure Zone), Canon-Typical Violence, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mermaids, Mutual Pining, No period typical homophobia or transphobia, Rating May Change, Strap-Ons, TAZ Amnesty, Trans Duck Newton, Vaginal Sex, background danbrey, background sternclay, indruck, mermaid au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:53:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24259981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisWasInevitable/pseuds/ThisWasInevitable
Summary: Kepler Bay, on the edge of New Orleans, is rumored to be home to all manner of mysterious creatures. Among them is one considered by most to be an omen of doom. Red eyed and serpentine, few who see it live to tell the tale.Duck Newton is not worried about such things; he knows danger is more likely to come from cottonmouths or corrupt men than from made-up monsters.Until one swims up from below and into his life.
Relationships: Indrid Cold/Duck Newton
Comments: 11
Kudos: 114





	1. A Ship is Safe in Harbor

**Author's Note:**

> After the mermay fills I did over on Tumblr, I got a request to do a full mermaid AU, which was something I'd been bouncing around on my own over the last few months. So, here we go. As with all my stuff, there will be no period typical homophobia or transphobia. 
> 
> Credit where credit is due: MorganEAshton and Tikkikwami were both in the Discord thread where I played with some of the ideas in the first part of this fic, and I know some of the ideas came from them

There are stories passed down from sailor to sailor, grandfather to grandchild, friend to friend, of the strange happenings in Kepler Bay, on the outskirts of the fair city of New Orleans. The swamps are full of strange sounds, calls in the night that come from no beast known to man. The bayous play host to a thousand unknown beings, eyes glinting in the darkness among the fireflies. The rivers and ponds house creatures much worse than alligators. 

And the bay itself? That is home to all manner of monsters of the deep. In the old days honest sailors and pirates alike learned this truth in a flurry of drowned men and broken hulls. 

The city may be haunted, but the bay is alive. Alive and hungry. 

Or so the stories go. 

\---------------------------------------

Duck Newton sets down _Legends of New Orleans_ , shaking his head. If this is the kind of nonsense the city heads are selling these days in hopes of drawing more visitors to the city, they’re more desperate than he thought. 

It also explains why, getting off shift in the gardens two nights ago, he’d scared the living hell out of a group of travelers, who were convinced that the grove he was tending to was home to ghosts. 

“Nope, just a lotta moss.” He tipped his hat and went on his merry way, his manners preventing him from adding that it was nearly the twentieth goddamn century, high time for people to stop believing in such weird nonsense. 

Then, last night, he startled another group, this time searching for Loup Garou on his path home. When they’d asked him if he’d seen anything dangerous in the bayous, he’s certain they weren’t looking for a fifteen minute lecture on snakes, gators, and bears, the ways of avoiding them, and the important role they play in the balance of the habitat. 

They got one anyway. 

Tonight, as he walks the city streets, mind already on dinner and the newest dime novels he got with last weeks pay, he passes by the Crytptonomica. Shakes his head with a chuckle at the visitors, local and far-traveled, lining up to see whatever malarkey Ned Chicane is peddling. Ned’s a decent fellow, at least in that he’s always friendly to Duck when they meet, and has even bought him a drink from time to time at Wolfes Bar. But he’s hellbent on selling stories Duck’s positive he doesn’t believe all to make a quick dollar, rather than taking on more honest work.

Then again, Duck supposes there’s little harm in that. As far as he knows, Ned isn’t the source of the flocks of tourists tramping the paths near his house. 

Said house is up on stilts because, unlike some rich folks he could mention, Duck’s none too keen to have his whole dwelling up and flood when the rivers rise, as rivers do in these parts. The one piece of the structure on the level of the water is his deck where he can dock his boat or fish into the river. The only time it's caused him trouble was when a gator decided to sun herself on it at the same time he’d needed to take the boat out. He’d poked her with a very, very, very long stick until she decided to find a new place to rest. 

His nights follow a typical pattern; come home, eat dinner, read or work on a model ship, wonder how he managed to end up somewhere even more humid than West Virginia, wash his face, and go to bed. He follows it to letter this evening, with no complaints or regrets. 

An hour or so after he turns in, a noise drifts in through the window. It must be a song, for it has a melody and a voice. But if there are words to it, they’re in a language he doesn’t know. The voice itself is strange, not quite beautiful but entrancing all the same, a minor key that sounds as if it’s being sung to him through a windowpane, or through thick fog. 

Or through water. 

The melody continues and as it does images flood his mind, and he knows with diamond-sharp certainty that they aren’t coming from within him. They’re coming from the singer, rippling with the same distortion as the notes. 

In them he sees a boat he recognizes; it belongs to Leo Tarkesian, a fisherman and his neighbor. Lightning flashes through the scene and two waves, fed by the sudden storm, crest the bow and snap the little fishing boat in two. Leo stays visible for a moment, swimming valiantly, before he too is lost. 

Another wave of certainty washes over him that this will happen tonight, soon, and yet he knows that’s impossible. The skies were clear when he arrived home. 

In the distance, thunder rumbles, and a rough wind bangs the shutters of the window so hard he jumps. 

The song ends, and he hears two words

“One hour.”

It could all be a dream. He could go to bed and wake up and Leo will be alive. 

Or he could wake up to news of a wreck and blame himself for the rest of his days. 

He pulls on his clothes and rain slicker, dashing down to his boat. It’s a newfangled one complete with a motor, but even so he’ll have to rush if he wants to find Leo before time runs out. 

He knows the other man’s fishing grounds, including the ones he uses at night for certain quarry. The storm picks up as he navigates down the river, and by the time he hits the bay itself the boat is fighting the waves every inch of the way. 

Finally, in a crash of lightning, he sees Leo's boat _The General_ tossing on the waves. Balance precarious, he stands and waves, and Leo, fighting to keep his sail steady, hails him frantically. 

“What the hell are you doin’ out here?” Leo seems torn between relief and confusion.

“Savin your ass, yankee, get in the boat.”

“Duck, I, uh” a splash hits them both and Duck forces his motor to keep running, “I appreciate it, but this ain’t my first storm.”

“Leo, I need you to trust me. We ain’t got a lot of time, and if you don’t get off that boat she’s gonna take you down to the bottom of the damn bay.”

“How do you figure?”

“I, uh, fuck, I, saw, the, uh, the weather reports of high, uh, waves, fuck.” Goddamn does he wish he could lie.

The first wave hits the boat, and Leo turns in time to see the second drag her front down, cracking it. 

“Shit!”

“Jump, now, c’mon!” Salt stings his eyes as Leo makes a remarkably agile leap into the boat, and as he fights to steer towards shore, _The General_ disappears. 

It’s only when they make the relatively calmer waters of the bayou that Leo speaks. 

“How’d you really know she was gonna sink?”

“I...I don’t know. It was just a, uh, a feelin’. Call it a premonition, I guess.”

“You don’t believe in those, Duck.”

Duck hazards a glance back towards the churning waves, “I know.”   
\----------------------------------------

As soon as Duck turns his attention upriver, two red eyes peer over the top of the cluster of rocks sheltering their owner. Who says, awed, to no one but the rain, “It worked.”


	2. Warnings and Waves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the mysterious voice leads him to prevent even more disasters, Duck goes in search of the singer. He can only hope they don't mean him harm.

“Duck, I wanna believe you, but I gotta tell you, you’re startin' to sound worse than Ned Chicane.”

“I know, I know.” Duck wipes sweat from his forehead, his run to the river engineers building taking a toll on his remarkable stamina, “just...you gotta trust me.”

“I mean I do, because you can’t lie for shit.” Juno Divine, head of engineering for the New Orleans waterways, shakes her head, “but mysterious voices? Visions? Forget me believin it, how the fuck do you believe it? You didn't believe in that kind of stuff even when we were kids.”

“Because it’s been right every goddamn time. There was Leo, then the town hall almost catchin fire, the sharks-”

“Sharks?”

“Or, uh, shark. I had to go stop a few, uh, amorous couples from takin a late night dip because a tiger shark had come too high up in the bay.”

(They’d argued with him until the fin broke the water, at which point they took off, still in their various states of undress). 

Juno sighs, stands up from her desk, “Alright, I’ll go take a look. But if there’s a break in the northwest levee, I’ll eat my hat.”

They leave the office together, Juno heading towards the water and Duck towards Lafayette Cemetery #1. His contract with the city is for maintenance and cultivation of public grounds and parks. Including cemeteries. 

He’s wondering if he can talk the city heads into some more shade trees, a thought not all spurred by the sun bleaching his skin as he works, when a hat appears in front of him. 

“You pick the seasonin’.”

“I was right?” He turns to look at Juno, who promptly slumps back against a nearby crypt. 

“Yep, you and your mystery voice were onto somethin. Found a hairline crack, the kind you only really notice if you’re already lookin for it. One more summer storm woulda taken it from small leak to big fuckin problem like that.” She snaps her fingers, puts her hat back on with a tired groan. 

Duck grabs his nearby canteen, offering it to her. She swigs, hands it back, and fixes him with a worried, pensive expression. 

“Did all of the things this voice warned you about involve people you know?”

“N-, hmm, well...Leo’s an obvious one. One of the folks I kept from bein’ shark-food was that Kirby fella, the one who works with Ned. Nice kid, comes into the botanical garden sometimes to work on that hokum column he writes for the paper. Then the fire...well, Minerva works in city hall, and Aubrey works right outside it lots of days, think Thursday woulda been one of the ones where she had her show there.”

“So let me see” Juno counts off on her fingers, “your neighbor and friend, an acquaintance you like, your mentor, a new friend and--since I woulda probably been in the path of that levee if it broke without warnin--your oldest friend were all nearly killed in these accidents.”

“Fuck, sounds real ominous when you say it like that.”

“I mean it to. Duck, what if these songs you’re hearin ain’t warnin's? What if they’re threats?”

\-----------------------------------------

Any wise man will tell you that going out to sea at dusk, deserted beach behind you and open water ahead, is a good way to never be heard from again.

Duck agrees with the sentiment, though his reasoning has more to do with tides, storms, and rocks than with sea monsters and sirens. 

All the same, here he sits, motor shut off, floating in the waves as dusk fades on the horizon. Since all but one of the warnings came at sundown or later, he suspects this is the time of day to catch his mysterious singer in the act. And unless the damn thing can read his thoughts or send messages from one mind to another, this bay is the closest patch of ocean it could call to him from. Much further out and it would never stand a chance of being heard. 

He has no idea how long he’ll need to wait, and so he’s packed a modest dinner, a bottle of Coca-Cola, and a thermos of coffee. Sitting beside the lunch pail is his revolver and a curved sword, just in case Juno is right.

The sword is a precaution in case the gun gets too wet to fire, but all the same he wishes he hadn’t brought it. It’s a family heirloom passed down to him from his uncle, a lean, unpleasant man with a creaky voice who was constantly yammering on about Duck’s need to fulfill his destiny as a proud son of the Newton family. He’d named the sword Beacon, told Duck the moniker was to remind the bearer that he had a duty to be a beacon of strength to those who met him. To be a hero. 

Duck found the sword a reminder of all the things he’d rather not think about, and so chucked it into his chest when he moved south, fully intending to pawn it the first chance he got. He never got around to it, but the dust on the scabbard is evidence of where it’s stayed all these years. 

A splash from his port-side and he turns. It could have just been a fish jumping, or a seal spotting him and diving back down in fright. 

The light is almost gone, and so he lights the small lantern, holds it aloft to better scan the water. 

Another splash, and this time he sees a long tail, ending in a feathery ‘V,’ arch and then disappear. Most fish are far smaller than what he saw. The tail was like nothing on any shark or other large sea creature he knows of. 

Duck has never believed the story of the monster of Kepler Bay, a creature said to bring doom to those who see it. The stories always come from survivors of wrecks, men still so wracked with fear and exhaustion that the couldn’t tell a seal from a shark if their lives depended on it. 

A ripple, something swimming just beneath the surface, gives Duck an estimate of the creature's size. It is not a comforting discovery. Whatever it is, it's his size if not bigger. 

It is easy to scoff when one is safe in the light of their living room, to act indomitable when legends are swapped in front parlors on summer evenings. 

It is another thing entirely to been alone, in a pool of light just strong enough to show something circling and circling your little boat. To see a red, fan-like fin break the surface like a knife through skin. 

It is so easy to ignore the warnings until it is too late. 

“Shit, _shit_ ,” Duck backs into the dead center of the boat, “nice thinkin’, Duck, go look for the fuckin omen of doom.”

When the head appears above water, he nearly drops the lamp. It’s a man’s face, no doubt about that, angular, strange, and framed by silvery hair. Duck finds it fascinating to look at, but not quite as fascinating as what appear to be the creatures ears, red with black pinstripes of webbing, flexing and relaxing as it regards him . It’s eyes are a deep red, glowing like menacing stars in the expanse of the ocean. 

“I’m so fucked.” He mutters. 

“Why would that be the case, Duck Newton?” The creature cocks it’s head, voice lilting and familiar. 

“It’s, it’s you. You’re the one who’s been singin to me. “

“That is correct” The figure rises slightly, revealing a man’s torso, as lean and angular as the face, and the red fin Duck saw a moment ago running down it’s spine. It swims towards him, propelled by something still hidden in the dark waves, “I am one of the merfolk who live in these seas. I am, ah, well, blessed or cursed, depending on the day, with the ability to see the future.”

“But I saw it too.”

“Because I sang it to you. My mother was a true siren, and so my voice contains some ability to communicate images to listeners. In your case, I used it to warn you of what I foresaw.”

“Why me?” Duck adjusts his hold on the lamp to see the merman better, and the creature tracks the light for a beat before replying. 

“Although the chances were slim, I saw you might listen to me. Might act on my warnings and prevent the misfortune I saw befalling those you knew.”

“Yeeeah, about that-”

“Oh.” The ears wilt and the mer rubs his arms, “I see. You think I am causing these disasters to harm those you know.”

“I mean, you gotta admit it’s a weird coincidence.”

“I must do no such thing. I merely report on the movements of fate, not control them. If I could control them, do you not think I’d use that ability to keep disasters from occurring?” There’s a hint of hissing growl and the last word, and red eyes glare at him. 

“Fair. But why not warn the folks in person, at least the ones near the sea? Seems more efficient than singin’ into the night and hopin I respond.”

The merman sighs, “What was your reaction when you saw me just now?”

“Uh, I, um, I was, fuck, sur-surprisedish? Fuck.”

He swears he sees a dark eyebrow raise, “That was a very bad lie. Please try again.”

“You scared the livin hell out me.”

“That is better. Now, imagine you are a sailor worried about a sudden storm, a fisherman panicked by a malfunctioning boat. And you see this” he gestures to his face, down his torso, then the tip of his tail flaps out of the water so he can point to it, “emerge. Are you going to think I am there to help or warn you? Or would you assume I meant you harm.”

“The second one.”

“And so have gone my attempts to help those unfortunate souls. My thanks is that any survivors carry stories of me to land, and I become a monster to be feared, a sign of your doom.” The statement is too resigned to be sorrowful, yet a pang of pity sounds in Duck’s chest.

“Why did you come, Duck Newton? I watched the futures before I surfaced, yet whether you admitted your reasons changed too quickly for me to see it accurately.” His gaze flits to where the gun and Beacon are laid and suddenly nothing but his eyes, hair, and tips of his ears are visible above the waves.

“ Whoah, hold on, I didn’t come here to hurt you. Those were just in case somethin was out here that wanted to eat me.”

“Something like the ‘omen of doom?’” The burble is only just decipherable. 

Duck moves the weapons to the other end of the boat, returns to his seat, “I came because I wanted to know who was singin’ to me. Who was tryin’ to help me. And, well, I guess I also came to say thank you. I’m friendly with plenty of folks around here, but the number who I trust, who I know really are my friends, is pretty low. Without your help, I woulda lost most of the folks who mattered to me in this town.”

The merman ceases hiding, floats at a depth that means any untrained eye would think he had legs beneath the water and not a tail.

“It has been a long time since my efforts were anything but thankless.” His voice is soft, like lapping waves of a calm tide. 

“Well, now they ain’t.” Duck, his answer gained, isn’t sure how to navigate from here. His stomach rumbles and he takes that as direction enough. 

Opening the lunch pail, he pulls out a half sandwich, sets it on his lap and grabs the cola bottle.

A loud sniff, and he watches the merman’s ears perk all the way up as he sniffs the air.

“What is that?” 

“Uh, dinner? Is that a thing you have?”

“I am aware of the concept of dinner; I meant what food do you have that smells so lovely.”

“Uh, got some chicken sandwich, a peach, some Coca-Cola-”

“What in the depths of the deep is that? I know chickens and peaches from my time observing humans, but that is not a familiar food to me.”

“It’s a drink, kinda sweet and fizzy.” He watches the merman swim a foot closer, the curiosity on his face oddly endearing, “you want to try some?”

“Yes. Please.”

Duck begins reaching out over the side, bottle in hand. Then he remembers how many stories of merfolk involve careless men being dragged to a watery death. So he sets it on the edge of the boat, then sits far back from it. 

His caution is contagious. The fanned ears twitch, the merman eyeing him warily as he swims up to the side of the boat. Then he snatches the still-capped bottle and swims rapidly backwards. Looks down at the drink, up at Duck, down again and up again.

Duck holds his breath.

Then there’s a flash of silver hair and scales as his new acquaintance dives out of view, tail flicking once in what Duck chooses to believe is a farewell. 

Breathing deep once again, he starts the motor and turns back towards home. As he putters upriver, a suspicion grows as to why he held his breath. He wanted the merman to stay. He wanted to speak to him more. 

At the very least, he wanted to offer him the bottle opener so he could actually drink the cola. 

The house is dark as he docks the boat and climbs the ladder up to the front door. It’s only when he swings the door open that he remembers it was definitely locked when he left. 

In the corner of the living room, a figure sits in the easy chair, shotgun resting across it’s lap. 

“Evenin’, Duck. Think it’s time you and I had a little talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Indrid's mer form is based on an oar-fish, and you can see one readers version of it here: https://thiswasinevitableid.tumblr.com/post/618428649739337728/this-remains-absolutely-wonderful-every-time-i


	3. Under Observation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duck gets a lecture. Indrid gets a lesson. Barclay gets a visitor.

“Go on ahead and light the lights, no need for us to sit here in the dark.”

Duck lights the nearest lamp, and the figure in the chair springs to life as one Madeline “Mama” Cobb, proprietress of the Amnesty Lodge on the edge of the Greenbank bayou. Duck’s met Mama a few times, usually when he’s watching Aubrey perform.

“Mama? What the fuck are you doin’ in my house?”

“Tryin’ to find out just how much damage control I gotta do.” She sets the shotgun aside, “brought that mostly in case someone else decided to cause trouble. Have a seat.” She points to the chair across from her, and Duck sits, annoyed by the intrusion.Mama reaches into her pocket, and when she pulls out a knife he tenses. Then she pulls a small, wooden Duck from her other pocket and whittles it as she talks. 

“Little bird told me you met a mer.”

“I, uh, I got no idea what you mean, was, uh, fuck, just out for a night, uh, swim? Fuck, no, hold on-”

“So you did meet one.”

Maybe if he doesn’t say anything else, this will go better. 

Mama sighs, “Look, I ain’t gonna tell anyone else about it, or put whoever you met in danger. I’ve known about the mers in this area for a long time.”

“Wait, how?”

“Duck, why do you think Amnesty is where it is?”

“Always assumed it was because you inherited it or didn’t have the money to put it someplace less, uh, watery.”

“Nope” She blows shavings to the floor, “that’s a main channel for mers comin’ up, and it means a lot of the folks livin there can get into the water if they need to.”

“Everyone who lives there is a mer?”

“Just the permanent folks. Travelers usually ain’t, far as I know. See, mer society is just as political and nasty as human society is these days, and plenty of mers end up needin’ to flee to the land. Amnesty gives ‘em a place they can live safely, and so humans who’d try to hurt ‘em or sell ‘em off to sideshows can’t find ‘em.”

“Do you... think I’d hurt one?”

“Nope, I just know you can’t lie, and wanted to let you know that it ain’t just the mer you met who need to be kept safe. That and, well, mers ain’t the only strange things runnin around the swamps and the bay. And usually even just dippin your toe into their world means gettin dragged into a whole heap of weird. You can go it alone if you want, but I’m thinkin you might get along better if you had some help.”

Duck could say no. Say it was a one time curiosity that, now sated, he doesn’t want to indulge again. But he can’t; he wants to know more about his merman. 

“Okay. Spent decades avoidin’ strange shit, but what the hell. If I’m gonna run up against monsters or what have you, rather not do it on my own.”

“Good. Meet me at the Cryptonomica tomorrow when you’re done with work and we can talk more.” She tucks the carving and knife away, shotgun strap over one shoulder. 

“You let Ned Fuckin Chicane in on this and you’re worried about me blabbin to the wrong people?”

“Ned knows how to keep his mouth shut when he needs to, and lies better than anyone in this town. Plus, he spotted Barclay out swimmin one night and it was either bring him into the mess or lock him in the pantry forever.” As she reaches the door the turns, “oh, by the way, who were you talkin’ to? Jake said he saw you leanin over the water conversin’, but he didn’t see with who.”

“Uh, he didn’t tell me his name. He’s got red eyes and these weird kinda fan-like ears, and he can see the future.”

Mama’s eyebrows raise, “Huh. Didn’t know he was back in town. Or in the habit of havin’ a casual chat with humans.”

“He? Who’s he?”

“Think I’ll let him tell you that. Night, Duck.” She disappears into the night, and Duck can hear her boots crunching along the nearby path into town. 

He’s tempted to get in the boat and sail back out, ask the merman what the hell he’s just gotten him into. But he’s had more than enough weirdness for one night, and so he kicks off his boots, strips down to fight off the sticky heat, and goes to bed.

\-----------------------------------------------------

“Good evening, friend Duck, what brings you to my wonderful establishment at closing time?”

“Mama asked me to meet her here.”

“Ah yes, she mentioned you might be joining our merry band. Come in, come in.” He ushers Duck through the door, past the exhibits, and into a back room. Waiting at a table are Aubrey and Barclay, the cook at Amnesty. Aubrey waves excitedly; Barclay looks unconvinced.

“Okay, Ned, remember how I said I really hoped you could keep a secret? We know Duck can’t, so why is he here?”

“I asked him to be.” Mama steps in behind them, shutting the heavy door, “because he ran across a mer last night.”

“He’s been helpin me stop disasters all over town.”

“I know, had Aubrey chat with Juno today and she found out just how much damage you two stopped. You’re quicker on your feet and in your thinkin than I was given you credit for, Duck.”

“Thank you?” Duck sits between Aubrey and Ned.

“So, is Duck the only reason you called us here? Or is there a new monster?” Aubrey sounds slightly more excited than Duck feels is healthy.

“Not as of yet, but I’m keepin my eyes peeled. Duck, we’ll brief you on the details in a second, because I got some news that’s more urgent.” She produces a folded letter from the pocket of her duster, which she wears in spite of the heat, “This was posted on the door of the lodge this mornin’.” 

Ned turns the paper towards them and the trio reads.

_This Building is now owned by the Council for Moral Reconciliation._

_Rent is due to the council on the first of each month. The total sum due each month is $500._

_Failure to pay rent on time will result in immediate eviction of all residents from the premises._

“Not these assholes again.” Barclay groans, rubbing his forehead. 

“They been pickin off buildin’s left and right. Even tried to buy one of the cemeteries so they could remove any, uh, unsavory images.” Duck adds.

“It’s a _cemetery_ ” Aubrey says, hands moving in a way to convey a silent “what the fuck”

“Some of those angels are mighty scandalous.” Duck deadpans.

“Point is, they set their sights on us. Ain’t sure why, though my guess is it’s because we all ain’t lily white and dressed like we’re goin to church every goddamn day. But that’s more rent than we can make, at least this month. Which is why, and I cannot believe I'm sayin’ this, we need your help, Ned.”

“You’re gonna send Ned to talk to them?” Aubrey raises an eyebrow.

“Nope. Ned, you know how to make a quick buck. I need you to make a lot of ‘em, without breakin the law. And” she stares him down, “if you even so much as think about skimmin off the top, I’ll tell the cops about your new ‘assistant.’”

“Kirby?” Duck looks at Aubrey, who shrugs.

“Understood, Mama. And I may have just the thing. In the main showroom, there is a large tank. If you all will wait for me in front of it, I will show you.”

Once they’re gathered before the curtain-covered tank, there’s hushed voices arguing, followed by a splash.

“Esteemed friends, allow me to present, a wonder of the seas never before seen. A mermaid!”

The curtain lifts, Aubrey laughs, Duck guffaws, Barclay shakes his head with a chuckle, and Mama grumbles, “we’re fucked.” 

Sitting on a rock so his upper half is out of the water is a heavily tattooed man with an obviously fake tail covering his legs. 

“He may not look like much, but wait until he takes to the water.”

“Edmund, if I try swimmin’ with this bloody thing, I’ll drown.”

“See, this is why so many of your plans failed; you never fully commit.”

“I commit plenty, it’s the fact that they’re so damned harebrained on account of your ideas-”

“Ahem” Mama clears her throat, “I appreciate the approach, Ned, but I ain’t sure he’ gonna drum up enough business, especially once word gets out. Then again” she looks down at the letter in her hand, “It’s worth a try.”

“Excellent!” Ned claps his hands together. His assistant heaves a splash of water on his vermilion jacket.

“This is newly tailored!”

“So’s this fuckin’ tail, how about you get in here and wear it!”

“I will have you know, that is-”

Mama jerks her head towards the door, “Think we can go, they usually do this for awhile. I’ll be in touch, okay Duck? And don’t hesitate to holler our way if you need help.”

He turns her words over like stones in the tide as he walks home. How much danger could he really be in?

A small rowboat passes along the nearby water, and he watches it until the lantern disappears. 

It’s occupants don’t notice Duck at all. They row into the river, to where it deepens at the edge of the bay. One casts his net over the side, and something tugs on it. He leans down to free the net, and two hands decked in spiny fins yank him overboard before he can shout for help. His companion turns at the splash. And two deep gray arms grab him from behind, pulling him into jaws that widen enough to take off a man’s head. 

Duck, meanwhile, reaches his back door without incident. When he looks out the window, he notices a cola bottle sitting on the dock. When he retrieves it, he finds it corked with wood from a nearby tree and containing a small slip of paper weighed down by an even smaller, perfectly formed pearl.

_Duck_

_Thank you for the drink. It was very good. I understand humans find these of value, so please take it as a token of my thanks._

_-Indrid._

He pockets the pearl as he stares at the note. It’s thoughtful, almost sweet, that the mer would go to the trouble of repaying him. Among other things, the river and swamp can get quite shallow a few yards away, and it can’t have been easy to swim through. In fact, he suspects the mer may not have even gone back into the sea yet. 

Another cola is easy to grab from the icebox, and he sets it on the edge of the dock, waiting a few minutes to see if Indrid will appear. When he doesn’t, Duck turns up the stairs and goes inside. 

As soon as the door shuts, there’s a splash echoing through his window. He sets the note and pearl into an old box for safekeeping, and smiles  
\-------------------------------------------------

It takes three more days, two of cola and one of a tiny bag of penny-candy, before he actually sees Indrid again. 

It’s Sunday, and he’s tending the flower boxes he keeps on the dock. The heat is already hanging heavy on the air, and so he heads up to the house, comes back down with two glasses of sweet tea. Keeps one to himself and sets the other on the edge. 

“Mornin’ Indrid” he calls softly towards the patch of reads where the tips of two, feathery red ears are just visible. 

For a moment nothing happens. Then the ears disappear and there’s a large ripple coming closer and closer. 

Indrid raises up, glancing quickly between Duck and the glass. Then he rests his arms on the dock and pulls the tea towards him. 

“I was not certain you ever wanted to actually speak to me again, or if you merely wished to stay in my good graces to avoid future disaster.”

“Mostly wanted to be neighborly. And thank you for the pearl; can buy a lot of cola with that.” 

“Ah, so it is valuable. That is why humans like it.”

“Yep.” Duck swings so his feet dangle in the water. Indrid sips the tea, licks his lips, and takes a huge gulp. Then he pulls himself up, turning gracefully so he’s sitting just as Duck is, and Duck gets his first, full look at him.

His tail starts just below his waist, is long and serpentine, scales silvery-blue in the sunlight. At the end, just peeking through the water, is a ‘V’ of red, the same pattern as the curved fin on his back. The end of his tail can twists and turn every which way, and it does so as he speaks. 

“May I spend some time here? It is nice in the sun, and I foresee your company being pleasant.”

“Sure. Though, may have to make another jug of tea at this rate” he grins, points to Indrid’s empty glass, which he’s licking the rim of. 

“Oh, apologies.”

“It’s not actually any trouble, I’m just teasin’ you. In fact, you hungry? I can bring us some breakfast. Can you eat things other’n fish?”

“Yes. My kind are omnivorous.”

“And you’ll be okay outta the water that long?”

Indrid nods, “We are amphibious, and can be on land for a little while without issue.” He grins, as if remembering this is something people do when talking, showing a mouthful of sharp teeth. 

The heat that races up Duck's spine doesn’t feel like fear, even though it should. 

“Uh, great. I’ll, uh, I’ll be right back.”

When he returns with a full jug of tea and a picnic basket laden with fruit, bread, cheese and some cookies Barclay gave him as a “welcome to the team” gift, Indrid’s tongue is fully extended as he laps at the bottom of his empty glass. As he sits down, Indrid is suddenly crowding him, cold fingers touching his face and neck.

“Really, it’s amazing humans go in the water at all. Not a hint of gills. And these” he lifts Duck’s arm, turning his hand back and forth, “not even any webbing. Not that all mers need it, but we all have tails. It seems like you would want at least a little webbing before you ventured into the sea. No wonder so many of my visions end in drowning. How do you even move with these?” He grabs Duck’s leg, lifting it up and sending Duck onto his back as a result.

“Hey!”

“See, you seem precarious even on land.” Indrid drags a finger up the ball of Duck’s foot and he stifles a giggle, “how do you even move through the water?”

“Ain’t, ain’t you seen that in your visions? Or in watchin humans?”

“I am usually looking for specific outcomes or information, any other details I take in are accidental. So, no. Are you alright?” His fingers are continuing to brush along the underside of his foot, and Duck is squirming in response. 

“It t-ticklesAH!”

“Tickles? Really?” He does it again and Duck yelps, tries to pull his foot away, and finds he can’t, not even with his unusual strength.

“How odd. Why use such a sensitive part of you to come into contact with the ground.”

“Don-don’t know, fuck, GAH! Oh, ohhhhhh” He sighs as Indrid’s hands switch to massaging his tired feet. 

“And yet this seems to be pleasurable. How in the deep depths do you use these at all?”

“Keep doin’ that and I’ll give you a demonstration of how we swim and anythin’ else you want to see.”

“But those things involve your feet. You cannot do both at once.”

“Fine, Ten minutes of this for ten minutes of me demonstratin’. Deal?”

“Deal, though you shall have to keep the time as you posses a watch. Do not try to cheat, or I will bite off a toe.”

“Uhhhh”

Indrid grins, “It was a joke. Apologies, my sense of humor has become a bit, ah, odd due to being alone often and plagued by bad visions. I do not bite unless asked to during mating.”

Duck squirms for a new reason, one that he will not admit even on judgement day, before replying, “S’okay, don’t mind gallows humor. And I just started timin’.”

“Good, thank you.” Indrid runs a hand up his leg, squeezing his thigh when an interested look before it skates back down to his foot once more.

“Are, uh, all mers so, uh, hands-on?”

“To a degree, as we are demonstrative. But if you met a creature you had little chance to examine up close, would you not want to touch it. In fact, here.” 

His tail lifts from the water, curves, and drops onto Ducks’ stomach with ease. 

“Oof! Uh, that’s, that’s really-” He tries to lift the tail and his hands slip, running up the inside of it. Indrid trills happily. Duck does it again, gets the same noise.

“Hmm, how do you swim with somethin so sensitive?” He mimics Indrid’s tone from earlier, and the mer laughs, odd and bright. 

“Well played, the trick is to avoid things brushing too hard against it.”

Duck continues petting the smooth scales as Indrid switches feet. The contact seems to help the mer feel comfortable, and soon he’s telling Duck all about his new home in the wreckage of Leo’s old boat and asking Duck if land animals are as dangerous as many believe.

“...We are not afraid of alligators though. They know a top predator of the water when they see one.” The top predator with his mouth still very near Ducks toes says with a smirk.

“It’s been ten minutes.” Duck says, reluctantly releasing his tail and sitting up when it slides back into the water.

“Wonderful. I foresee it being safe for you to swim here so please.” He points to the water. Duck’s about to ask for the chance to put on is bathing clothes. Then he remembers the man before him is functionally naked, and so settles for removing his shirt and pants before dropping into the water. It’s just barely over his head here, so he treads water as Indrid once again pulls his tail onto the dock before rolling onto his belly to watch Duck, elbows propped up and chin resting on his palms.

“Show me swimming.” The tip of his tail is fluttering in excitement. 

So Duck swims, a normal stroke first followed by a backstroke. When he once again treads water, Indrid slithers in to join him, disappearing beneath the surface. Duck can feel his tail occasionally catch his leg as the mer circles him, watching his feet. 

When Indrid climbs back onto the dock he holds out his hands, “That is enough swimming. Please demonstrate jumping.”

Duck feels ridiculous at first, leaping about his deck, but there’s something addictive about following Indrid’s orders, watching his face light up with that sharp smile each time Duck does some basic movement of his body. If only his entire life was made up of such simple actions leading to such a bountiful reward. 

The ten minutes are finally up, and he flops down to sit facing Indrid. The mer slides up to him, and he anticipates another examination of his limbs. 

What he gets is a cheek rubbing his own, soft trill coming from the merman. 

“Thank you for indulging me.” He murmurs, still rubbing their cheeks together, cat-like and nearly in Ducks lap. 

“You’re, uh, welcome. Uh, is this how you normally thank people?”

“Of course. Oh” He pulls back, ears drooping, “I forgot it is not so with humans. I did not mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Mostly just startled me” Duck smiles reassuringly and the ears perk back up when he does, “how about that breakfast?”

Indrid beams, pours them each a fresh tea as Duck sets out the food. Indrid seems unconvinced on the merits of cheese, but gobbles down each piece of fruit Duck offers him, licking his fingers happily after each one (and licking Duck’s once when the peach he bites sends juice streaming down his hand. Duck doesn’t stop him, almost stains his other hand the same way in hopes he’ll curl his textured tongue around those fingers too). 

They pass the time until sunset on the deck, eating and talking, even swimming together once, although Indrid had to direct and alarming display of bared teeth and hissing at a snake that swam too close before he allowed Duck to join him in the cool water. 

“I ought to return home.” Indrid slips into the water once more, “may I come visit you again?”

“Can’t you see my answer comin’?”

“I….I would very much like for you to say it anyway.”

Duck reaches down, picks a stray leaf from silver hair, “Indrid, you can come visit whenever you want. I’ll be happy to see you.”

The merman flashes a softer, sweeter smile, and waves as he turns towards the sea. 

\--------------------------------

Barclay cannot believe he is doing this. 

He sits, arms resting on the rim of the tank, as Ned shouts his spiel on the other side of the curtains. His tail, his real one, trembles nervously. 

He’s only doing this for Mama and the others. Boyd’s merman drew only derision and suggestions to one's friends to avoid the Cryptonomica. If he wants to save his home, keep his friends under the roof where they can live without fear, he has to draw more people here, put more money into Ned’s lockbox. 

The curtain parts and he sinks down. The glass is only truly lit on it’s bottom half, to showcase his tail and keep his face obscured, so no one can accidentally recognize him. His face and torso are either shadowed or silhouetted depending on his position. He swims in slow circles at first, here’s the crowd murmuring, noise dulled by the glass. 

Gradually, he builds speed, the onlookers a blur of distorted shapes and colors as he twists and loops. 

Now for the big finish.

Using all his strength, he bursts out of the water, arcs, and lands in an elegant dive. A hard, or even impossible action for someone wearing a false tail, or so Ned had pointed out. The crowd gasps, applauds, and he does it twice more before Ned closes the curtains. 

He swims to the small platform at the far corner, retrieves his charmed bracelet, turning human before pulling himself out of the tank. The visitors are buzzing, whispering and laughing excitedly, Ned encouraging their wonder, tossing out bullshit, money-making answers to their questions. 

“He’s here everyday?” A man’s voice, casual yet polite. 

“Indeed my friend! Come see him as many times as you wish.”

“I might do just that. Thank you Mr., uh, Chicane, was it?”

“Yes sir, Ned Chicane, purveyor of all manner of wonders.”

Barclay doesn't discover the significance of the conversation until the next morning. He’s down a waiter, so he’s helping on the floor as well in the kitchen of the Lodge’s modest restaurant. He’s not complaining, both because it’s slow and because it means he’s been serving one of the most handsome men he’s ever seen. Black hair and blue eyes, an actor's smile and the kind of face that Barclay would hand over his last dollar to have between his legs. He introduced himself as Joseph Stern, and Barclay is delighted to see his name in the guest register.

It’s bad form to flirt with guests, worse to offer them a bedwarming service in the form of ones own naked body, but Barclay can dream. 

“Staying long?” He asks, collecting the plate he’s fairly certain Stern licked clean.

“Yes, for quite awhile. That was delicious, by the way, and perfectly cooked.”

“Thanks.” Barclay flashes him a shyer smile than he means to, tries to recover, “are you just visiting.”

“Not quite. I’m working on a mission with a ship from the U.S Navy. One that many people think is ridiculous.”

“Try me, you hear all sorts of things doing this job.”

Stern looks over his shoulder then says, matter-of-factly, “I’m here looking for mermaids. And I believe that last night, I actually found one. Are you familiar with The Cryptonomica?”


	4. In The Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stern makes a threat. Duck goes for a swim. Indrid draws a picture.

“Kinda amazed you’re able to make these on account of, y’know, water.” Duck lifts one of the parchments, covered with an intricate illustration of an octopus. 

“Mers have as much a drive to create as humans do. And so we developed paper of a kind, and ink and paint that is waterproof. “ Indrid sets his latest drawing aside and begins another. At times he draws automatically, as if something beyond him was controlling the pen, and others he takes his time, capturing each detail of something before him, rather than ahead of him. 

He’s come to Duck every night for the past week and a half, is well on his way to becoming part of his nightly routine. They eat together, and Indrid will draw while Duck reads or gardens (Indrid has also taken to stealing the westerns from Duck's stack of dime novels) until the fireflies telegraph their loveletters through the trees and Indrid heads for home. 

“The paints are actually rather pleasant to touch. Here, give me your leg.” Indrid holds out his hand, and Duck presents his ankle without a second thought. Whatever danger lays in Indrids teeth, in his tail that can propel him like lightning and the red glimmer of his eyes, Duck is certain it is not meant for him. 

There’s a light whiskery whisper across his leg as Indrid draws a stripe of deep blue up his calf. It dries instantly, and when he dips his leg in the water it doesn’t come off. 

“Sometimes I like to draw the dry brush along my scales as well.” Indrid makes a twin mark to Duck’s up his inner arm. 

“It does feel real nice, almost like silk. But, uh, do I basically got a tattoo now?”

Indrid laughs, “No, nothing so permanent. On skin or scales, it fades away after a few days.” 

“Thank fuck.” A soft, wooden _tump_ sounds behind them, and Indrid’s tail-fins twitch with excitement.

“You have a swampcat!”

“Maybe. She seems to be a stray more than she’s wild. Keeps pullin fish from the shallow parts of the bank and, in the two minutes she was in the house last night, caught the mouse that’s been threatenin my pantry.”

“Such a clever creature.” Indrid holds out his hand. The cat, all black and brown scruff and scarred ears, sniffs him. Blinks, puzzled, sniffs again before rubbing up against his arm.

“That’s why I think she’s a stray. She’s let me scratch her ears, even crawled into my lap when I was havin coffee out here Tuesday mornin’. Wild cat wouldn’t do that. Or, if it did, it shouldn’t; wild critters oughta stay that way. They get too used to humans, someone gets bit or scratched and then any critter that looks like it gets shot.”

“That seems excessive.” Indrid says sympathetically, then coos when the cat licks his hand.

“Humans got a knack for bein' that way at times.”

“Perhaps you should take her in as a pet, to protect her from such reactions.”

“Not sure she wants to stay put. But” he reaches out, fluffs the cats tail and she tosses an affronted look his way, “gonna let her hang around, see if she takes to me enough to live here.”

“I have always wanted a pet. Many mers take rays or crabs, or even sharks, as companion animals. But I have been nomadic for a long time, and it did not seem fair to drag some poor creature hither and yon in my wake.”

“Could always get a gator if you stay in Kepler.” He gestures, with a teasing smirk, towards one of the large reptiles floating in the distance. They’ve given his house a wide berth since Indrid started visiting.

“They do not like saltwater, do they?”

“Hmm, good point.”

Indrid gives a secretive snicker, “Do you know what I wanted as a pet when I was younger? A human.”

“How’d you figure that’d work?” Duck giggles.

“I assumed I could create a spell to make, well, I suppose a tank of air the way humans keep aquatic animals in tanks of water. I’d pick out the most charming human I could find, feed them, talk to them, I even had a design for the furniture, I thought I could make it seem as though they were still on land.” He grins as Duck laughs harder at the image.

“Can’t decide if that’d be relalxin’ or downright terrifyin for the human.”

“In my defense, I was very young when I had this daydreamOUCH!” He turns, tucking his tail down into the water and out of the range of the cats teeth. 

“Then again, human probably wouldn’t bite you the way a cat would.”

“Not unless they wanted a certain punishment. Or reward, depending on how one looks at it.” He purrs dreamily.

“Which would be?” Duck coaxes the cat over to him, needing to distract his hands from what they’re currently tempted to do. Who they’re itching to caress until he’s a trilling mess of silver and sweat.

Indrid opens his mouth, then his jaw goes slack and his eyes blank.

“Indrid, is everything-”

“It is urgent that you go back into town to give Ned Chicane a message. Can you do that?”

Duck is already searching for his boots, “Of course.”

He does not add _I’ll do anythin’, long as it it’s you askin it._

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You’re certain this is genuine?”

“Absolutely, sir.” Stern brushes off his coat, opens the door so Captain Hayes can enter the Cryptonomica, “I’ve visited multiple times to observe him, and I am positive this is a true mermaid. 

The tank is already uncovered, a small crowd observing the wonder within. Hayes pushes past the onlookers, Stern apologizing as he does the same.

Then his heart takes on the role of an anchor, and he wishes it would pull him all the way down into the floor. 

“Stern, that tail is clearly fake. You can-”

“See the seams yes, I know, this isn’t the one. This isn’t the merman I’ve seen before.” He can’t see the face, he never can, but the build, while muscled, doesn’t match the form he’s memorized, “I’ve come at all different hours of showings, it’s always the same one. The real one.”

“Greetings gentlemen!” Ned Chicane appears at Hayes’ elbow, “Isn’t he a beauty? Fetched from the depths of our very own bay.”

“I don’t suppose you have more than one creature that you display here?” Hayes’ looks Ned over carefully. 

“More than one? Why, my dear sir, we are lucky to have the one we do. Mermaids are rare creatures indeed.”

“He’s lying.”

“I assure you, Mr. Stern, I am not. Ask anyone and they will tell you there is only one mermaid that has been displayed here.”

“Thank you, Mr. Chicane. Stern, a word?”

Stern grinds his teeth as he follows the captain into a deserted corner near some clearly fabricated Jackalopes. 

“Sir, are you really going to take the word of a professional charlatan over mine?”

“He has no reason to lie about there being two, in fact it helps his profits to say he has only one. You, on the other hand, would have reason indeed. I stationed you at Amnesty because of the rumors surrounding it, and so you could investigate without the shadow of the navy sending your quarry skittering into hiding. Yet you have found me nothing but a false mermaid.”

“Sir, with all due respect, I have worked tirelessly in my search. I will find you what you need, I swear I already have-”

Stern glares at him when his tone grows frustrated, and so he falls silent. 

“You are clever and ambitious, Stern. I would hate to see that wasted in a wild goose chase. And I would hate to see what too many dead-ends means for your, ah, ongoing employment. Am I understood?” 

“Perfectly, sir.” He salutes, digs his nails into his palm as he watches the captain depart. 

When he stalks back into the display room, the curtain is down and Chicane is resetting for the next group of guests. 

“Where’s the other merman, Mr.Chicane?” He asks as politely as he can.

“I told you, my good man, there is only one.”

Stern shakes his head, steps so he and Ned have only a few feet between them, “You may have Hayes fooled, but it won’t work on me. I know what I saw.”

“I’m sorry, but there is really nothing else I can say on the matter. I have shown you all I have, told you all I know.”

“Is that so?” He looks around the room to be certain they are alone, “would you like to know what _I_ know, Mr. Chicane?”

“Of course.” The old man smiles with the confidence of a seasoned con. 

“This is not my first time looking into such matters. When I do, I always look into the purveyors or displayers of the supposed wonders, to get a sense of their character. But when I looked into you, I discovered something very curious. Edmund Chicane did not exist until a few years ago; he’s missing a few tracks in his paper trail. What I _did_ find is a case from a few years ago. A robbery went south, one man, Boyd Mosche, was arrested but would not give up the name of his accomplice. Speculation was that his accomplice was a thief known under the alias Ned Kelly. Four months ago, Mosche escaped from a chain gang and disappeared. Perhaps into the home of his former partner."

“That all sounds like pure conjecture.” Chicane seems unruffled, but Stern didn’t get this far by being unobservant; the barest hint of fear is at the corner of his eyes, and when Stern said Mosche’s name, he flinched for only an instant. 

“Maybe it is.” Sterns says breezily, stepping so they’re toe to toe and staring the older man down, “But I think it isn’t. So listen carefully: the next time I ring your bell, you come running. And it better be with the truth in hand.”

He straightens, spins on his heel, and leaves Chicane, unusually speechless, behind him. 

\---------------------------------------

“I wish I knew how much time Hayes expected me to do this in. Right now it feels like there’s a clock ticking down over my head and I’m the only one who can’t read it.” Joseph laments to the ceiling as Barclay finishes checking the shutters. This is the seventh odd-job he’s made in Stern’s room in so many days; in between meal-times at the restaurant or after dinner service, he’ll check to see if Joseph needs anything.

And wouldn’t you know it, he always does. 

The dark haired man is dejected, his palms dotted with red marks, and Barclay aches to apologize for the switch. But when Duck had brought Indrid’s warning, there was no chance Barclay or anyone else was going to risk the captain getting too close a look at a real mermaid. 

“Joseph, can I ask you something?”

“Mmhmm” Joseph turns a pen over in his fingers glumly.

“Why is finding a mermaid so important? Like, what will you do with them if you catch one?”

Joseph folds his hands across his chest, “were it up to me, we’d simply converse with whoever we caught. But Hayes has something else planned. Something he hasn’t told me or any of the crew. I doubt whoever we caught would be in danger; Haye’s is formidable, but he’s not about to kill an innocent creature we’ve spent several months seeking out.”

“Don’t sound too sure about that.” Barclay sits on the edge of the bed, wiping his hands on a rag from his toolbox.

“Some days I’m not sure about anything.” he turns his head towards Barclay, “will you swear to keep the next thing I tell you a secret?”

“Absolutely.”

“I think our hunt for a mermaid is because of The Quell.”

“Wait, Persephone Quinn? She’s been dead for at least a hundred years, according to the statue of her and Sylvia Diaz in the garden district. Or that was in the garden distric, til the reconciliation council had it taken down for ‘glorifying criminality.”

“You don’t think piracy is a crime?” Joseph's tone is more curious than accusatory. 

Barclay chuckles, “what do you know about Quinn and Diaz?”

“Diaz was minor Spanish royalty who was sent to live in California as a child, Quinn her best friend and eventual lover. They took to the seas and promptly terrorized every corner of them, though the East India Company was their preferred prey. Quinn became known as The Quell due to her stormy and at times ruthless actions. Do I answer satisfactorily?” He asks with a wry grin, and Barclay rolls onto his side, head resting on his fist.

“Missing a real big piece. They went after slave ships too, but not to loot or sink. Just lend the prisoners some extra firepower until they could fully control the ship. Way I hear it, they controlled a number of harbors up and down the western coast of the Americas, so the ships had a safe port to enter. Kepler Bay was actually one of ‘em. You still find people who claim their ancestors were ‘children of Sylvain,’ those helped by the women and their flagship”

(He leaves out the women were well known to mers, even trading with them for information and protection in certain waters).

“That explains the statue.” Joseph is now rolled to face him, listening intently, “and no, I was never taught that version. Nor does it appear in any of the accounts I’ve read.”

“Story goes that when news that _The Sylvain_ was sunk came to town, half the city was in mourning. So yeah, not a huge fan of piracy, but I’ve got a soft-spot for that pair of Pirate Queens.”

“Understandable.” He rests his hand atop Barclays, and Barclays heart turns dangerously warm, “thank you for the lesson. Though it doesn’t help me much with my current predicament. As I said, The Quell is back. She and _The Sylvain_ were sighted off the coast of Nantucket a month ago.”

Barclay frowns, “I mean, ghost ships are a favorite rumor around any seaside town. Ned says they’re good for business. How do you know this is real?”

“Because our ship saw it too. That’s what led Hayes down here; we followed _The Sylvain_ -and it is most definitely her, complete with a moths figurehead and the main-mast cracked from the final battle-- for a whole night before she disappeared. New Orleans was their preferred stamping ground. It stands to reason she will appear here eventually.” He takes in Barclay’s pensive face, “you think I’m mad, don’t you.”

“No” he says softly, “just given me a lot to think about. I, uh, I oughta let you get some rest. Seems like you had a long day.”

“I did, though after incidents like this one, I tend to struggle with sleep. It’s, um, hard to silence my mind and worries.”

His better judgement rears it’s head, and his desire chops it off, “I, uh, I know something that helps with that.”

“Really?” Joseph’s smile suggests he likes the direction this is going. Barclay shifts so they’re chest to chest, cups his cheek and draws him into a kiss. Joseph's leg hooks over his and he keeps him trapped in the kiss by holding tight to the front of his shirt.

“Good lord, I thought you’d never get this bold. Not that I’m complaining.” He pants, chuckles when Barclay kisses his neck.

“Bad manners to make advances on a guest.”

Joseph begins undoing the front of Barclay’s shirt with a grin, “Lucky for you, I’m in the mood for you to show me just how bad your manners are.”

\---------------------------------------------------

Duck floats on his back, sunset painting the sky. Indrid has brought him to his favorite spot, a secluded lagoon with pleasingly clear water, to relax after yesterday’s bout of holding their breath in hopes of Stern and his captain not learning the truth about Ned’s mermaid. 

“How were the trees today?” Indrid lazily circles him, eyes glowing brighter as the light fades.

“All well-behaved. Though some of those mosses are troublemakers.”

Indrid snickers, “My paints are much the same.” The sounds of swimming cease, “If, if there is not much to discuss, you are welcome to leave. I, ah, I know conversation is important to pleasant social interactions.”

“This is plenty nice.” Duck tilts forward, lets his feet find the sandy bottom, “Like your company an awful lot, quiet or no.”

Blue light flickers down Indrid’s tail as he smiles. 

“What do the lights mean? Seen you do ‘em a couple times now.”

“They are an automatic reaction to my emotions, or to certain stimuli. The ocean can get very dark and murky, especially if one is a deep-diver, and so light helps us communicate to each other across distance. Mated mers will also color match each other when courting. In my case, blue is generally a sign that all is well. In other words, I am signalling I feel safe and at ease with you.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Indrid swims, still glowing, and Duck simply watches him. The elegance of his turns, the eerie beauty of his scales in the darkening water. 

“Do you believe in fate?” Indrid says the next time he surfaces.

“That’s a mighty odd question.”

“It has been on my mind of late. You see, in all futures, even when I called to you, Leo died in that shipwreck. My song was a last act of what I perceived as futility, my own inability to accept a poor outcome. But then you changed the future, in the last possible moment, so unexpected that I did not see it coming until it was done. When one’s life has been so governed by fate, both my own and those of others, it is at once jarring and exhilarating to meet someone stubborn enough to alter it.”

“Thanks.” Duck smiles, knowing Indrid well enough now to spot the compliment. “I...I dunno. My family was big on legacy and destiny, about how every Newton child was born to do great, heroic things. Even Minerva seems to think I got more in me than bein’ a gardener and arborist. And now all this stuff with Mama and the mers and maybe monster-huntin...kinda feels like I’m provin’ ‘em right after years of insistin’ I didn’t want none of that.”

“One might say there is a difference between great acts done out of a belief that it is ones fate to do them and those done because you feel they are the right thing to do to protect the ones you care for.” Indrid offers.

“Don’t quite feel that way yet. Maybe it will someday.” Duck smiles, a little ruefully, and Indrid takes his hand, comfort in every movement and face serious, and Duck is seized with the need to see him smile again.

“Or maybe I’ll stop worryin’ about fate and jobs altogether and become some mers pet.”

Judging by the surprised laugh, Indrid wasn’t expecting that response.

“I will happily provide you with a human-safe tank should the need arise.”

“Yeah? Gonna take me home and spend all day fussin’ over me?” Duck is giggling now as well.

“Of course. I shall keep you well fed and entertained, brush the salt from your hair. I shall even get you a long, long lead so you can be among your beloved trees. Only the finest care for my treasured human.” Indrid declares.

“Treasured human, huh? Like the sound of that.” They’re face to face, Indrid grinning wide and purple flashes bursting under the water.

“As do I.” He purrs and something smooth and cool brushes up and around Duck’s thigh. He gasps when the tail uncoils only to slide between his thighs, hooking around his left leg as it undulates against him. 

“Such good care I’d take of you.” Indrid’s ears are relaxed, but his eyes glitter with barely contained hunger, “for instance” he drags his tail along the center of Duck’s underwear, teasing his cock and putting delicious pressure on his folds, “you seem to enjoy this.”

“Y-yeah. Oh, oh sweet christ” the tail is moving more deliberately now, Indrid using the part of it not currently tormenting him to pull them against each other. 

“Shall I continue?”

“Fuck, yes, wait-” he puts his hands on Indrid’s shoulders and the merman goes still, “wait, do, do you know what you’re doin’? That this ain't, uh, ain’t like some of the other times we touched?”

Indrid is about to answer when his eyes widen. Duck hears his shriek of alarm as they’re both yanked beneath the waves. Clawed hands have both his ankles, and he kicks and tugs at them, freeing himself just as his oxygen runs low. 

“Shore! Get to shore!” Indrid swipes at his attacker, and Duck gets a glimpse of sickly yellow eyes. 

“I ain’t leavin you to fight ‘em off alone.” His head whips back and forth as he scans the water around him. 

“I am” Indrid disappears, reappears with a splutter “not intending to fight. I intend to run away, as should you. Do not” he hisses, and beneath the water there’s the ripple of something being knocked aside by his tail, “do not go back in the water until I come for you. Go. NOW!”

Duck swims, switches to a haphazard bounding when the water is shallow enough for him to walk. But only two strides in, his right foot is taken from under him and he falls, pebbles and cracked shells scraping his skin as he’s pulled into deeper water. 

Fighting to keep his head up, he hears a terrifying, hissing shriek, and sees Indrid, ears fanned out like a frill and tail pulsing red as he lunges at full speed towards Duck’s attacker. 

There’s a burst of pain in his back and then he’s free once more, sprinting up shore, only stopping to pull on his boots when he’s far, far away from the lagoon. He;s not about to escape death by sea monster only to get bit by a damn cottonmouth. 

As he reaches the final stretch of the path, house in sight, he lists hard to his left, catching himself against a tree trunk. By the time he fumbles the door open, his vision has gone hazy. He collapses on the floor, pulls the source of the sting on his back into view. It looks for all the world like a red, feathery quill. 

“What the fuck?” He mumbles, and then passes out cold on the dusty floor. 

He comes to at dawn, cat thwaping his nose. She must have snuck in through a window, and he cuddles her close as he gets his bearings. Stray or now, she must sense his distress, kneading his arms and purring as he pieces together the panicked puzzle of last night. 

Indrid. Indrid was in the water with those things. Even if he ran, he was in the water and they could follow him, could have harmed him, killed him, and Duck will never forgive himself if that’s true. He can;t lose him now, he can’t, he can’t, he has to go find him, has to help him or care for him. 

He grabs his gun and Beacon, had a small heart attack when someone knocks on his door. Right, Leo usually comes by this time of morning to ask if he needs anything from the general store. 

The door swings open, his hurried, very bad lie ready on his lips. 

A man, tall and angular, with red glasses and only the barest trace of clothing, grins expectantly at him with very, very sharp teeth. 

“Oh good, in some futures you were not yet awake. May I come in?”


	5. The Time is Near

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indrid gets adjusted. Duck asks for Help. Aubrey asks some questions.

The smile droops further the longer Duck stays silent.

“Are you not happy to see me?”

“Wh-no, nono, Indrid, I’m so fuckin relieved those fuckin things didn’t get you. But: where the fuck did you get legs?”

“I made them.” Indrid wobbles through the door, “Many of my kind get their human forms from either myself or an enchanter, but he and I do not get along, so I made my own. It is kept in these glasses.” He taps the metal frames, “do you like it?”

“Yeah. It, uh, looks kinda how I always imagined you’d look as a person.”

“Is that something you imagine often?” Indrid’s stride is that of someone who drank their weight in beer, mis-stepping and correcting with his long legs as he picks up and examines items from Duck’s kitchen.

“Y-n-fuck, uh, why’d you make it now?”

“Mainly to avoid another run-in with those creatures we met last night. I know for a fact they cannot get on land. But, ah, I have been wanting to try it for some time. Many of my friends eventually took human forms alongside their mer ones, or were forced to flee to land."

“Were you never interested?” Duck sets the kettle on the stove, gets out coffee and sugar. 

“My mer form, indeed my whole demeanor, is alarming to humans. I did not think a human form would make any difference. There is something...immutable about my otherness, I think, no matter what disguise I wear.” He says it so plainly that Duck doesn’t know how to contradict it. Any protest, any illustration of Indrid's otherworldly charm, would merely skim the surface of the belief. 

Instead, while the water boils, he sits on the couch, patting the space beside him. Indrid swings his legs, making to stand, but miscalculates and tumbles backwards. He lands with his head in Duck’s lap, glasses askew, legs visible up to his hips (Duck looks away, cursing his politeness all the while).

“I did not foresee balance being such an issue.” He mumbles into Duck’s thigh. 

‘C’mon, sea legs, up you go.”

“I did no have legs in the sea, that is part of the whole issue. And no, your lap is very comfortable to rest upon, so I shall stay here.”

“Fine by me, but we’re gonna have to figure out another way of gettin breakfast” The kettle begins steaming.

“I will deign to travel to it, if I can spend the remainder of the day like this.”

“You got a deal. Lodge it is then.”

Indrid doesn’t stand, turns his head to nuzzle Duck’s belly, “I was not entirely truthful; it seems there is one human who no longer finds me alarming.”

“Damn right.” Duck strokes his hair, a more muted shade than usual but still as striking, “let’s find you some clothes. Much as I appreciate, uh, your, uh, your state of undress, I, uh, I mea how it makes sense in this weather, we're gonna run into some trouble with you dressed in nothing but, uh, what even is it?”

“Someone’s discarded picnic blanket.”

“Right.”

Soon they’re walking down the path into town. It’s slow going both because Indrid is still a little unsteady on his new legs and because he keeps pausing to examine things. 

“I thought you’d seen all this stuff in your visions.”

“Seeing and experiencing are related but not completely comparable phenomena. And there are so many things to take in. Like that snake. What kind is-”

“Copperhead, which means we’re gonna walk alllll the way over here.”

When they arrive at Amnesty, only a few regulars are dining, Aubrey and Dani among them. 

“Hello, everyone.” Indrid grins, waving at Dani.

The two women gasp and Barclay drops the tray of empty dishes to the floor. 

“You talked to Heathcliffe?” Dani says as she helps Barclay pick up several broken plates. 

“No. I made this one on my own. And before Aubrey asks, no, it was not purely for the purpose of spending time with Duck, though that was a benefit.” He picks up two ceramic shards, placing them on the serving tray Barclay is holding

“So…..why _did_ you make it?” Aubrey slips a strawberry from her plate into the waiting mouth of a large, white rabbit in the basket by her feet.

“Because going into the water would be dangerous for any of us at the moment. Relatedly, is Mama here?”

“Just finishing up some work I think, what do you need to-”

“Stern.” Hisses Dani as Duck pulls Indrid down at the next table over. 

Stern enters with a tight but genuinely polite smile, sits down at a table with a single chair. Duck turns to ask Barclay for the usual and finds him gone. 

“Ooooh, so you do keep jars of sugar on the table.” Indrid picks up the small, metal jar and proceeds to upend half of it into his mouth. Barclay emerges from the kitchen with a coffee pot, so focused on his task that he doesn’t grab the sugar from Indrid until after he’s poured Stern his coffee. 

“Guessing you’ll have the sweetcakes. Duck, usual?”

“Yes please.”

It’s only after their meal arrives that a new problem presents itself. 

“Good morning Mr.Newton, nice to see you again.” Stern pauses at their table on his way towards the hall, “And nice to make your acquaintance Mr-?”

“Cold, Indrid Cold. I’m a friend, visiting from out of town.” Duck is envious of how easily the lie leaves his lips. 

“If you’re looking for somewhere to stay, I highly recommend the lodge. The service here is excellent.”

When Stern is gone, Dani mimes wiping her brow while Aubrey flops forward onto the table in relief. 

“Thank fuck you didn’t try to lie.” Aubrey mumbles. 

The remainder of breakfast passes without incident, and soon they, plus Ned, are gathered in Mama’s small office.

“Barclay gave me a heads-up, but I’m guessin’ somethin’ had to have gone pretty bad to make you come up here.”

“Indeed. Last night, Duck and I were attacked while out in the water. I doubt Duck got a good look at our attackers-”

“Wait, you were in the same place when it happened?”

“Yes, we were swimming together.” Indrid continues, oblivious to smile Aubrey swaps with Dani, “As I said, I doubt Duck saw them well as human eyes are not well-suited to seeing under water. But I got quite the look. They were mers, but not as you know them. They...hmmm, how best to explain this? It is as if they are ships that have been beneath the waves too long, bits of them wasting away or corroding. And not just their physical forms; they attacked as if they had no knowledge of who they sought to harm or what they were doing. Like they were not in full control of themselves. And they are afield of home. Look at this quill one of them struck Duck with.” Indrid holds out the feathered, pointed fin. 

“I’ve never seen a mer of that type here.” Dani says softly, “and the ones I knew when I lived further south never used their quills like that. It was a precaution against sharks.”

“Exactly. It is only because Duck is more durable than most that it did not impede his ability to getaway, or outright kill him. The other mer was from deeper waters. Have you ever seen what humans call a goblin shark?”

“Nope but I hate the sound of it.” Dani shudders.

“It's mer form was very much like one. The point is, until these two mers are addressed, it is not safe for anyone to go in the water, including the swamps. And if my visions are correct, this will only get worse; there may be more than these two, though I cannot yet see what is causing them to act this way.”

“Christ.” Mama groans, sitting down in her desk chair, “okay, we’ll cook up a plan and get rid of ‘em.”

“Or cure them.” Aubrey adds.

“In the meantime, I’ll tell all our residents to steer clear of the water. Speakin’ of residents, where the hell are you gonna stay on land?” 

Duck opens his mouth, but Indrid catches his eye and shakes his head before telling the others, “I would like to stay here, if at all possible. After all, I have been told the service is excellent.”

\-----------------------------------------------------

“So you see, it seems we have a common enemy, Captain Hayes. William, the map if you please.” The head of the Council for Reconciliation sets down his wineglass. 

“You are certain she’s the one we have to remove from the picture?” 

“Positive. She knows more than she is letting on, and I suspect she is the cornerstone of the whole endeavor as well. If she goes, not only will we have our information, but the others will not be able to sustain the secret.”

“Very well. You have my help.” Hayes leans forward so he and his new partners can examine the blueprints of Amnesty Lodge.

\--------------------------------------------------------

“Soooooooo when were you gonna tell us you were dating a mer?” Aubrey folds her hands behind her head, leaning them on the trunk of a willow tree.

“I, uh, I ain’t.” Duck fills in the soil around the roots of new, small Magnolia. 

“Duck, in the week since Indrid’s been on land, I haven’t seen him without you.” Dani says, head resting comfortably in Aubrey's lap.

“He’s my, uh, my friend. Just tryin’ to be a good host and help him adjust to things.”

“Speaking of which, has he gotten better about not walking into the street without looking?”

“Sorta. And he still finds horses a bit alarmin'."

Dani shakes her head with a laugh as Aubrey continues, “I guess that makes the real question: when are you gonna tell Indrid you have feelings for him?” 

“How would I even do that? I know enough to know mer flirtin is different than human flirtin'.”

“So you _do_ like him.”

“Fuck, uh, I mean, if I did, uh, fuck, have like-type feelin’s for him, fuck. Yeah. Do I just give him stuff? Write poetry?”

“Well….” Dani fiddles a blade of grass between her fingers. 

“Aw fuck I was kiddin’ with that second one.”

“No, I mean, Indrid’s descended from a siren right? Siren’s sing to court each other.”

“Fuck that’s worse. You ever heard me sing?”

“No?”

“Exactly!” He wipes dirt from his trousers, dejected, “but I do wanna do somethin’ for him before I tell him how I feel. I...I want him to get a real deal courtin’. Any chance you two can help me, on account of clearly knowin how to make a the whole human/mermaid thing work?”

“Woo! Hell yeah.” Aubrey raises her arms in triumphant excitement, “C’mon honey, we’ve got some matchmaking to do!”

\-----------------------------------------------

“Would you like some help?” Indrid tugs at the front of his undershirt, still not fully used to having to keep his top half covered.

“Sure.” Barclay smiles, hands him one of the two pails he’s holding, “any of the berries will do, they’re all gonna be fruit salad or cobbler anyway.”

Indrid plucks blackberries from the vine as he asks, casually, “how does one encourage a human to show their affection?”

“Uh, depends on the human.” Barclay glances over his shoulder (silly, as Indrid would have warned him if they were to be disturbed), “why ask me?”

“Because you have the favor of Joseph Stern.”

“Thought you didn't use those powers to spy on people.” Barclay chucks a rotten berry into the shrubs.

“I did not. But he looks at you as though you made the waves and the tide, and you do the same when you think no one is looking. Also he has a bite mark at the base of his neck, I noticed it when he and I passed one another this morning.”

Red creeps up Barclay’s skin, “I didn’t even mean to leave it. Kinda just happened on instinct. He liked it, thank god.”

“Oh good, humans do enjoy biting then.” If he still had his tail, it would be flashing purple with excitement. 

“Only some. Probably oughta ask Duck before you do.”

“I am aware. The problem is I am not certain as to what to do prior to that point. I...I brought him a pearl once as a thank you, so he will likely take it for the same thing if I bring him other treasures. I am fairly certain he desires me, as I used my tail on him and he enjoyed it.”

“You did tail displays? Wow, didn’t realize you had it that bad.” Barclay elbows him. 

“Careful, my balance is still not always correct. And yes. I fear I may even be in love with him.” He gathers the pail to his chest protectively, word weighing heavy on his tongue. Perhaps he should not have said this; he foresaw good outcomes. Barclay was his friend before he fled to land, even visited him on occasion afterwards. But perhaps he no longer has any interest in Indrid’s well-being. 

Barclay chuckles, loops his arm over Indrid’s shoulders, “Okay pal, I’ll help. Lucky for you, I happen to know the way to a man’s heart.”

\----------------------------------------------

“Christ that was good.” Duck finishes the last bite of cobbler, Indrid beaming when he does. When the mer had said he had a surprise for him in the park, in the willow glen (Duck’s favorite place to go when he needed time alone), he wasn’t expecting a meal that he cooked himself. Indrid has tried his hand at cooking a few times, but stoves and fireplaces (really heating elements as a category) are intimidating to a being who lived his whole life in the water. 

“I am glad. I wanted to show you how happy I am to be with you.” Indrid shifts, nestling down with his head in Duck’s lap. It seems to be his preferred form of repose, and Duck has grown so used to the weight of his cheek on his thigh that he misses it when the merman is elsewhere. 

He’d brought Indrid the gift Dani suggested; shirts of silk and other soft, pleasing textures. Indrid is still short on clothing, and finds many fabrics to be too itchy. The merman had brightened, trilling with delight and flapping his hands, when Duck presented them.

But it still doesn’t feel like enough. He knows what he should do, and it’s a testament to his affection for Indrid that he actually wants to do it.

Now if only he could remember a single fucking song. 

He brushes lint from his grey-blue shirt, runs his fingers through Indrid’s hair, the texture soft and fine when not coated in saltwater. Eyes flutter shut behind red glasses, and Indrid sighs, takes Duck’s other hand and draws it to his cheek to rub against it with cool skin. 

Duck looks to the trees for help, or maybe a miracle, and takes a breath. 

_My Dearest dear, the time is near when I and you must part  
And no one knows the inner grief of my poor aching heart.  
Or what I suffer for your sake, for the one I love so dear.  
I wish that I could go with you or you could tarry here._

_I wish my heart were made of glass, that in it I might behold  
Your name in secret I would write letters of bright gold  
Your name in secret I would write, pray believe me when I say  
You are the one that I love best until my dying day._

_Mo gra thu, a stoirin_

Indrid hums, repeating the melody of the last sentence back to him, then offers a delight sigh as Duck continues.

_And when you're on some distant shore think on your absent friend  
And when the wind blows high and clear, a line or two pray send  
And when the wind blows high and clear, pray send it, love, to me  
That I may know by your hand write how times have gone with thee_

_My dearest dear, the time is near when you and I must part  
And no one knows the inner grief of my poor aching heart  
Or what I suffer for your sake, for the one I love so dear  
I wish that I could go with you or you could tarry here_

When he build the courage to look down, Indrid is gazing at him awestruck.

“A true siren song.” He whispers, softer than the willow leaves.

“Not near pretty enough to be.”

Indrid reaches up, cups Duck’s cheek, “A siren song is not supposed to be beautiful. It is supposed to offer the listener that which they most desire.” He cups Duck’s cheeks reverently, bending him like a bough until their lips meet. 

When he releases him, Duck rushes to lay beside him, to catch him in his arms again. His mouth is honey-rich beneath Duck’s own, his sighs more rapturous than a church choir. The heat still hanging in the air may as well be frost for how it pales next to the fire pouring from his heart into his chest, spilling out into nerve and tendon as Indrid wraps his arms around him. 

“Darlin’, darlin’ please.”

“Anything, ask anything and it is yours.” Indrid whispers, fingers splaying across his back, tugging at his clothes. 

“You.”

“ I am already here. And unlike the poor singer in your song, your lover is able to tarry here until the very end of the world.”

“Yes.” Duck buries his face into Indrid's shoulder, “Stay, please stay.”

“I shall. Although” he lifts his glasses to his forehead, red eyes glinting with amorous humor, “unless humans are far more comfortable with relations of a, ah, intimate sort in public, we should adjourn elsewhere.”

“Then gather our things double-quick. There’s a bed waitin’ at home with our name on it, and if we don’t get there soon, desires gonna flood me too much and I’m liable to drown.”

“Well then” the sharp teeth appear in that perfect smile, “there’s no time waste, is there?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Duck sings is an old traditional called "my dearest dear." The line in Gaelic translates to "I love you, my darling."
> 
> And yes, mer-Heathcliffe is 100% a catfish.


	6. Treasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indrid gives orders. Duck takes aim. Barclay goes for a swim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're going with Duck having had top, but not bottom, surgery.

Most nights, Duck enjoys that his home is not technically in town. . 

Tonight, he’s trying to decide how suspicious it will look for two grown men to be sprinting down a poorly lit dirt road. Or if it’s possible to die of anticipation.

Indrid is far calmer during their trek, so much so that Duck starts to worry the merman is expecting something totally different when they arrive home. At last the weathered frame covered in chipped green paint comes into view. He gets the back door open, it takes him all of thirty seconds to get the light on and set down the basket. When he turns back Indrid is leaning against the door, every last shred of clothing gone from his body. 

“Guh.”

“It is all to your liking? I…” his expression teeters between salacious and shy, “I want this experience to be as pleasurable for you as possible.”

“Darlin’, you could have tentacles down there and I’d still be hornier than a bull in spring."

“What a strange sentiment” Indrid tilts his head as he walks the dusty wooden floor to circle his arms around Duck, “my kind of mer does not use tentacles for mating. Have you been reading those plaques at the Cryptonomica again? I told Ned they were not accurate.”

Duck chuckles, smoothing his hands along Indrid’s ass, “No, I, uh, I just mean that you, you ain’t gotta worry about me not bein’ attracted to you. I wanna get to know every goddamn inch of you. Just holdin’ you like this...well, you wanna talk about pleasin, it’s the most pleasin fuckin’ thing I done in weeks.”

“Is that so?” Indrid takes Duck’s right hand, guides it around his hips to his front, “And how does this measure up in terms of pleasing you?”

Duck draws his fingers along the thick, slightly curved cock, a rush of satisfaction hitting him as it hardens under his touch, “might like it best of all.”

“Good, I, OH” Indrid leans into him as he moves his hand up and down in slow strokes, pausing each time to thumb at the head, “it’s a bit hard trying to envision a single appendafe when making the design, as I am used to a slightly ah, different configuration”

“Appreciate the ef-wait, different? So you ain’t got tentacles but you got something else?” 

Indrid pulls back enough to tilt Duck’s chin up for a kiss, then teases the air between them with the words, “If you are very good, perhaps I will let you see some time.”

“That a challenge, darlin’?” Duck’s other hand drifts forward to caress Indrid’s chest. 

“Only if you wish it to be.”

“Okay, I’ll bite; what do you have in mind?”

“I wish to treat you so very well, my sweet. And if you are good, that means you let me lavish you with all manner of pleasure and of course, obey my commands” he grins and the points of his teeth become more prominent, “you will be my treasured human and I your loving master.”

His mind floods with memories; Indrid commanding him to demonstrate various human movements, grinning delightedly when Duck did as he asked. Such breezy commands usually put him in a contrary mood, but coming from Indrid they did not bother him. 

The realization covers him like a wave. He wants to be good for Indrid, he has for weeks and weeks, and the thought gives the rest of him permission to respond, body cuddling up against him as his strokes quicken and he manages a single word.

“Yes.” He rubs his cheek against Indrid, and the mer trills softly. 

“A bit vague, my AH my sweet, but the sentiment is understood.” He gingerly moves Duck’s hands off of him, runs his still-cold fingers along the human’s cheeks, “remove your clothes and get on the bed.”

Duck, in his eagerness, gets his order of operations wrong and is promptly stuck trying to get his trousers off over the boots he’s still wearing. Glances up between embarrassed curses to find Indrid watching him with boundless affection.

“This _is_ a first; someone in a hurry to get closer to me, rather than away.”

Finally free, he chucks his uncooperative clothing and shoes into a far corner, Indrid joining him on the modest bed as he does. 

“Now, my treasure, there are three rules you will follow tonight. The first” he kisses Duck’s left cheek, “is that if at any time something is painful or unwanted, you will tell me. I desire obedience, but not at the cost of your comfort. Second” a kiss to his right cheek this time, “biting and scratching is extremely welcome, and third” a final kiss, light a ocean breeze, on his lips “You will not cum without permission. Understood?”

“Uh huh” he may as well be hypnotized, his world narrowing down to Indrid’s voice and face.

“Good boy.” Indrid strokes his jaw with his fingertips and Duck moans at the words. The smirk suggests Indrid knew just what kind of reaction they would get. 

“Are, is this what you do every time?” Duck shivers as Indrid kisses a stripe across his collarbone.

A shake of the head, “No. Mer courtship often involves a bit more, hmm, chase I suppose you would call it. Splashing and swimming about acrobatically until you catch or are caught. It used to be a demonstration of skill to a potential mate, now it is merely for fun. Speaking of which” he sits back on his heels, all touch leaving Duck, who tips forward to follow it. He’s stopped when a finger presses on his half-parted lips, “ah ah, now it is time for us to have some fun. You are going to touch yourself, so I may see how best to service you. Stay kneeling, but up off your heels. I require access to as much of you as possible.”

As Duck takes his position, Indrid rolls onto his belly, chin resting his palms. Duck moves his hand down to stroke his cock, focusing on the upper side. He’s already slick from Indrid’s tone and the promise of more orders, his fingers gliding in automatic patterns, gasps slipping from his mouth as he finds his rhythm. 

His cock hardens under his fingers, helped by the fact that even with his eyes shut, he can feel Indrid’s attention on him, hear heavy breaths and a low, bubbling trill. All the same, he peeks an eye open, afraid it’s not enough of a show.

Indrid is transfixed, tracking every motion, licking his lips when Duck slips two fingers inside with a groan. Movement catches his attention and he giggles.

“You’re wigglin’ like you still got a tail.”

“Mmmm?” Indrid looks behind him, at his squirming hips and flicking feet, “hah, so I am. Proof of your excellent performance, my pet.”

The name dives beneath his skin, sends heat shooting down every vein and he works his fingers harder, desperate for Indrid to say it again.

“Careful, pet, if you cum without permission I shall tie you down for the remainder of the evening and not permit you to touch me.” 

“Fuck.” He forces his fingers to slow, “Indrid, please, please, I need-”

Hungry lips cut him off, catching his pleas in a kiss. 

“Yeah, that.” He slurs happily.

“Foresight has it’s benefits.” Indrid’s hands skate along his thighs, up to his hips, groping and pawing, nails pricking and sending goosepimple up his skin. Indrid’s mouth soon joins his hands, licking and kissing, moaning as if Duck is a delicacy beyond compare.

With a grace that shouldn't be possible on knobby knees and hands across a sagging mattress, he circles Duck, seeking out every sliver of sensitivity. When he dips down to nuzzle his stomach he nips his way along it until he reaches his ass. The next bite is much harder, Duck yelping in surprise, then laughing from the rush of pain and affection as Indrid kisses over then bite. 

Slowly, Indrid sits up behind him, arms circling his middle, “You know, many years ago, I met a mer from the northern waters, built to stay warm beneath the ice.” His voice lilts in his ear as his hands reverently caress Duck’s belly, “his tail was speckled, belly soft, so sturdy and warm when I touched him. I did not think a human could compare. Now I see all others pale in comparison to you, my treasured one. Please, my pet, show me how I may keep you in my arms forever.” One hand continues roaming up and down his body while the other finds his own as he steadily rubs his cock. 

Duck shifts, switches the places of their hands, guiding Indrid to stroke him, then pushing two long fingers inside.

“That is wonderful.” He curves his hand further, allowing Duck to grind on the heel of his palm with increasing urgency.

“G-glad you think so, nnh, fuck, _yeah_ like that, right there, fuck, if, if you don’t want me to cum you better stop soon.”

Indrid pauses and Duck whines.

“Don’t fret, and hold still. I am simply weighing my options.”

Duck holds his breath, concentrates on staying still as stone. 

“Yes, I think you can cum now.”

“Thank yOUfuck, fuck, Indrid, please, just a little more.”

“So polite, my sweet” there’s a growl building under Indrid’s lilt, “so perfect, won’t you cum for me? Ah” a chuckle against the base of Duck’s neck as he tenses with a moan, “it seems you will.” 

As he whimpers through his climax, lovebites appear along his upper back, and by the time he slumps forward Indrid is in front of rather than behind him.

“Christ, how are you so goddamn calm right now?” He kisses Indrid’s shoulder as the merman guides them down on top of the sheet. 

“I am not. My human form is still getting used to expressing itself. Were I in my true form, my tail and fins would be lighting up all the colors of a pearl in the sun.”

“In that case, you wanna fuck me?”

“Yes” Indrid is already sliding off the bed as Duck speaks.

“Supplies are in the-”

“-Red box” Indrid says along with him, “I have never actually seen such things in person, our materials are different back home--oh, _my_.” His head appears, silvery hair obscuring his glasses but not his grin, “there has been a change of plans. Tonight I would very much like you to fuck me, pet.” 

A brown leather harness complete with a glass cock lands on the bed. Indrid crawls up after it, tin of lube in hand. He’s nearly bouncing on the bed with excitement as he looks between the toy and Duck. 

And here Duck was worried about being able to get turned on again so quickly. 

“You’re the boss, darlin’.”

“Indeed. Now put this cock on.” He shoves the items into Duck’s hands. The human hunches forward with a laugh as he takes them.

“You always this blunt in bed?”

“Only when I have someone so willing to serve me.” Indrid flops back, head on pillow and legs unashamedly spread. His toes are still wiggling a little as his right hand runs roughly along his cock. 

“You keep doin’ that I’ll never get these straps done right.”

“Then keep your eyes on your work.”

“Easy for you to say, you ain’t got the best-lookin man on land or sea in your bed to distract you.”

“Nonsense; I have you.”

“How can you be so fuckin smooth-tongued huh?” Duck wins his battle with the harness, clambers on top of Indrid, “with your fuckin eloquence and flattery while I’m over here growlin’ like a goddamn dog.”

“Perhaps it is the siren blood. Or perhaps” Indrid kisses his chin, manages to get a condom out, “you bring it out in me. And not another disparaging word about your speech; it is more flattering to me than you can imagine. Also I enjoy the growling.” He flutters his eyelashes comically behind his glasses, then he gasps as he begins fingering himself open.

Eager to please Duck growls, dives down to find Indrid’s pulse point with his teeth as he rakes his nails up his left side.

“AHnnnnnnnn yes, good boy, like that OH” he trills when Duck sucks a bruise into his throat. The fingers of his free hand flail, then hold Duck’s head down, where he obligingly attacks the patch of skin over and over again.

“There we are, now you’re truly following the, goodness, the rules my sweet, nothing finer than a man who knows how to behave. I, I was going to open myself more but to hell with it.”

With a stunning amount of strength, he tugs Duck into position with the harness, messily drags a palm-full of lube down the toy, and presses it in.

“Mmmm, the weight of it is lovely.” His legs loop around Duck’s upper thighs, pushing him the rest of the way. Duck rolls his hips slowly, Indrid arching off the bed and allowing him to slip an arm beneath his back. Indrid’s cock catches between them, and pre-cum streaks his skin as Indrid ruts against his belly with a trill.

“Th-that is enough adjustment, my sweet. I, I want you to take me as hard as you dare.”

He puts more weight behind his thrusts, but keeps them steady and patient. Indrid may not have done this before, may not know what he’s asking. 

Sparks of mouthwatering pain shoot up his neck as Indird tugs his hair, “I said _hard_ ,pet.”

The growl barely sounds like him as he pulls halfway out and slams back in.

“Yessss” Indrid purrs, “thaATs it, good boy, goodmhmmmph.” It’s Duck’s turn for a hungry kiss, teeth tugging at Indrid’s lips, tongue slipping in to lap up every whimper and moan. There’s a distinct scrape of wood on wood as as the bed shifts across the floor, a complaint from the bedsprings and cacophony from his own heart. Beneath it all Indrid moans, urges him closer, offers kiss after kiss as reward for his aggression. 

There’s a writhing arch of Indrid’s spine, a higher trill, and the sticky heat as cum spreads across Duck’s stomach and spatters up his chest. As Duck pulls out, he realizes the clicking, trilling sighs are Indrid speaking in his native tongue, interspersed with recognizable praise.

“...Perfect lovely human, so good, all mine.”

“Every last inch of me.” Duck rolls over, Indrid waiting for him to remove the harness before draping himself across his body. He’s sticky with sweat, but Duck can’t bear the thought of moving him just yet. Not when he’s here, real and solid in his arms rather than a fleeting vision beneath the waves.

“These look like they were made by a perturbed squid.” Indrid offers a loopy smile as he traces the crescent scars on Duck’s chest.

“From now on that’s what I’m gonna tell folks who get too nosy.”

“Only if you add that a handsome and” Indrid yawns wide, snuggles down closer, “clever merman saved you from it.” 

“Think I can manage that.” Duck shifts a pillow beneath his head, strokes Indrid’s back with his fingertips. They can rinse off later, can tend to the strewn clothes and messy floor in the morning. 

All that matters right now is Indrid, falling asleep in his embrace as he murmurs, “goodnight, my treasure.”

\------------------------------------

“Everyone clear on the plan?” Mama finishes strapping on her gun-belt.

“Yes, but I still hate it.” Barclay fidgets with the woven cord around his wrist. 

“I am not fond of it either, but the fact remains it produces the best odds of success. If nothing else, having us in the water will allow us to defend our friends if they fall overboard.” Indrid hands Duck his sword, which he reluctantly takes.

The plan is straightforward: they will go to the cove where Indrid sees the best odds of finding the two corrupted mers. He and Barclay will take to the water, while Ned, Duck, Mama, and Aubrey split between the beach and a small rowboat. Once the mers are drawn out, they’ll do whatever it takes to subdue them. 

Duck hates the plan almost as much as Barclay does, even more so when they arrive at the cove and find the moon covered by clouds. They’re not to light lamps until Indrid gives a signal, but it means everyone but Indrid and Barclay can barely see each other, let alone something lurking beneath the waves.

Mama and Aubrey push out in the boat as the mers slip into the water, while Duck and Ned take up position on rocks on either side of the small cove. 

It’s deceptively peaceful. 

Duck is watching for yellow eyes and unfamiliar fins as much as the rest of them, but he’s also scanning for any trace of silver, any sign his love is alright. 

Which is why he sees the burst of red first.

“Shit” he cocks the gun, calls to others, “that’s Indrid’s warnin’ color.”

A gasp off to the starboard of the boat has both women whirling, Aubrey’s hands catching fire (Duck will never get used to the fact she can do honest to god magic) as she does.

“Got one coming from open water” Barclay yells, “It’s big, way bigger than it should be, I’m gonna try and get it to surface.” He dives down just as Indrid pops up near Duck, ears fully frilled and tail flashing red.

“I see the other one, the one that attacked you. I will do my best to lure it into the shallows.”

“Be-” _splash_ “careful.” 

They wait, on edge, Duck watching a slowly waving strip of red light with horror; Indrid is using his own damn tail as a lure. 

“Oh fuck!” The curse is accompanied by a burst of flame across the water, and in the dying sparks Duck sees a mer, tiger-stripes across gray skin and mouth full of rows of teeth, lunge at the side of the boat. A white and blue speckled fin--Barclays-- speeds towards it, and the monster shrieks when it’s knocked sideways.

In the commotion he loses sight of the red light.

“Fuck, where are you, where are you?” he whispers.

The query is answered when, across the cove, Indrid pulls himself up onto the rocks beside Ned, gripping his shoulder and barely swinging his tail up and out of reach of the other feral mer who rears out of the water in pursuit, head and arms coated with the same red-feathered quills that stung Duck. 

Indrid hisses as Ned and Duck both fire, causing the mer to retreat.

“Did you hit it?” Ned calls.

“You woulda seen if I had better than me--oh fuck, nope I did not hit it.” A dark swell barrels towards him. He fires twice, either misses or is impeded by the water. And then the mer bursts from the waves, leaping high enough to grab his arm as he’s poised to fire again. 

He has just enough time to grab the rock and it barely saves him, keeps him from being dragged under as his gun sinks out of sight. The mer tugs, snarling, and his nails dig into the stone, fear proving most effective at strengthening his grip. It snaps at his arm but as he manages to kick it away before the teeth find his skin, he sacrifices his footing, returns just a little lower than he left and finds his foot slipping uselessly on the rocks.

He's going to fall in. 

The mer knows this, and smiles. A shape rises silently from the water behind it, frill silhouetted in a sliver of moonlight and red eyes glowing. 

It reaches out, and politely taps the hungry mer on the shoulder. 

As his attacker turns, Duck hears, “a sword would be most useful.”

He draws Beacon, makes a hopeful stab down as he falls from the rock. Bubbles cloud his ears, but there’s a faint, choking shriek beneath them. 

When he surfaces the corrupted mer floats, lifeless, with his blade through it’s back. 

“Jesus.” His stomach churns as he catches sight of the face, too reminiscent of Indrid and the others for him to ignore. 

Indrid tows their attacker to shore, Duck swimming after him. When the body is on the sand, Duck sits to examine the claw marks in Indrid's shoulder. Bandages them carefully, eyes still flicking to the dead mer. Indrid glances up at him, face hard to read. Then he reaches down, and shuts the mers eyes with his fingers.

Duck retrieves Indrid’s glasses from their bag of extra supplies as Ned hits the shore and helps Barclay from the waves. Indrid, human, hands Barclay his bracelet. Last to reach shore is the boat, towing the body of the other corrupted mer. 

“So much for curin’ ‘em.” Duck mutters as they regard the corpses. 

“You were right; it’s like they’re rotting. Or bloating.” Aubrey kneels beside the bodies, studying them. She looks at Barclay, who seems ill, and adds gently “did you know either of them?” 

“No. You, Indrid?” 

Indrid shakes his head, arm wrapping protectively around Duck’s waist. 

“I guess…just, there’s never been a disease like this in mer history. I looked through all the records we had, even had Dani’s brother look for us in the Atlantian Library. Nothing. What if it spreads? What if it gets any mer that goes in the water?” Barclay rubs his arm anxiously.

“A distinct possibility.” Indrid murmurs. He blinks, perplexed, when the others glare at him, “I said I foresaw these two not being the only mers to be corrupted. More to the point, only one of those mers belongs to the pair that attacked Duck and myself."

“Fuck, any idea where the third is?” Mama knocks sand from her hat.

Indrid points down the beach to their left. 

Two seconds later, a man’s scream pierces the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The two corrupted mers are based on a Lionfish and a Tiger shark.


	7. On the Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirby makes a friend. Duck flees. Indrid pursues.

As he rounds the bank of rocks, feet sinking in the damp send, a wave surges up, stinging his eyes with salt. 

When they clear, Duck finds the source of the scream. 

Two men are laid out on the sand. Or he’s assuming the second one is a man; it’s harder to tell with the head missing. 

The second man is thrashing frantically in the hold of the third corrupted mer, blood leaking from his shoulder and stomach as it drags him towards the water, grey tail whipping in the surf. 

“Hey, drop the kid!” Duck yells. The mer snarls, digs it’s claws deeper into the man’s skin, resulting in a garbled cry of pain.

Two gun shots ring out past his ear and the mer falls, dead, into the patch of bloody sand. 

“That the one?” Mama looks to Indrid, whose face is blank behind his glasses. 

“Yes. And the last, for now.” He murmurs, gaze returning to the present. 

Duck hurries to the terrified man as Barclay kneels to examine his less fortunate companion. Close up, it’s clear he’s no more than a kid, sixteen at the oldest, clutching his wounds and tracking Duck with wide-eyed terror. 

“Hey, it’s alright son, we’re gonna get you taken care of. You got a name.”

With shaking effort, the young man moves his hands in a series of symbols. 

“Fuck, uh, you mute?”

A nod.

“Don’t suppose any of you know sign language?”

“Not unless it is the same for humans as it is for mers.” Indrid stays behind Duck, tries to offer the youth a smile. This backfires as soon as he sees his teeth, scrambling back and pointing to Indrid with a mixture of fear and confusion. 

“It’s okay, Indrid’s friendly. That mer who attacked you was...well, we think it was sick. Fuck, is there a spell of somethin so we can…’” As he looks to Indrid for help, Aubrey sits down beside him.

“What’s your name?” As she speaks she signs and Duck sends a relieved sigh heavenwards. 

The same signs as before. 

“Duck, Indrid, meet William or” she takes in the next few words, “he says you can call him Billy.”

“Howdy, Billy. How come you and your, uh, friend were out here?”

“Think I can answer that” Mama’s voice cuts through the air, terse, “need you three to come here a second.”

“What is it?” Aubrey peers at the corpse as they huddle up.

“This fella here had a card in his wallet identifyin’ him as August Falwell, high-rankin’ member of Reconciliation. And I seen that kid before too. Took me a minute to place him, but he’s usually followin’ Mr. Walker, Reconciliation’s head man, around.”

“You think they were spyin’ on us?”

“That or looking for the same things we were” Barclay eyes Billy warily over his shoulder. 

“Sooo what do we do?” 

Mama takes a deep breath,mouth set in a firm line, “I say we leave ‘em both here. This one ain’t goin’ anywhere, and it won’t take long for the other to bleed out. We can’t risk ‘em gettin’ word back to Reconciliation.”

“No.” Duck steps back from the group, “I ain’t leavin’ him here like this. May as well have killed him myself if I do.”

“You got any idea what’ll happen if they find out about the mers?” Mama hisses.

“No, because you ain’t ever told us. And frankly, it don’t fuckin’ matter. I’ll take him, get him fixed up, make sure he don’t run off when our backs are turned. I’ll keep ‘im cuffed to my wrist if that’s what it takes, but I ain’t just leavin him to die.”

“Duck is correct.” Indrid says, voice neutral and far-away, “I...I cannot yet say why but when he made that declaration, several futures reset at once. And not in bad ways. It is important that we trust him on this matter.”

“Fine.” Mama holds up her hands, palms out, “but if this goes wrong, it’s on you.”

“Can live with that.” Duck turns back to Billy, who is now curled up, eyeing Mama with fear, “sorry, kid, didn’t mean to worry you. Mama don’t--well, ain’t right to say she don’t mean no harm, guess it’s more she’s just trying to look out for the folks she loves. Aubrey, you willin’ to come with Indrid and me while we get Billy to my place

“Yep. And here” Aubrey makes two small circles in the air, “that oughta stop the bleeding for now. I might be able to help a little with the healing too, but I burned through a ton of magic energy fighting.”

“You're already helpin’ a whole hell of a lot, Lady Flame.”

Aubrey grins at the use of her nickname. Duck helps Billy up, but the boy can still barely stand, and in the sand they both stumble under his dead weight. A figure appears on the other side of him as Barclay helps steady the injured youth. 

“Oh dear.” Indrid says quietly.

A green glow rises beneath the water, fingers of sickly grey and red fog curling out onto the beach. The horizon disappears, replaced by endless fog and a chill that seeps dread into every pore. 

Whispers slither across the sand and through the air, a hundred voices all speaking as one in ghostly snippets.

_Heart....where is the heart...we know...do not hide...need it...take it….no peace until_

“Um, who needs it?” Aubrey asks as Ned steps behind Mama and Indrid and Barclay both give low hisses of fear. 

_Ours...ours….give it back…she is gone...give it back_

“We can, uh, we can try? If you just-”

 _Ours_ The voices bellow and the fog parts.

Gliding on the waves, her mast broken and sails torn, is _The Sylvain_. She’s all rotting wood, her crew green figures fading in and out of sight as they walk the decks and man the sails. And at her helm, pulsing red and black, stands the Quell.

“Fuck.” Mama whispers behind them.

“Look at the water.” Duck points to where oozing white-green light is sinking from the hull down through the waves. 

“Oh dear.” Indrid says again, just as the red eyes of the ghostly captain turn to regard them. 

_The heart_

A green flash, and the scene is gone. 

“Guess Stern was right about her turnin’ up here eventually.” Duck says through a dry throat. 

“Yep.” Say several voices, in varying states of calm.

“Any fuckin’ idea what she’s lookin’ for?”

“Nope.” Says the increasingly stressed chorus.

“Fuck.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

If the sea were not occupied by ghost ships and potentially man-eating mermaids, Duck would have moved to the bottom of it by now. 

It started with staying up hours into the early morning five days ago to stitch up Billy only to go to work the next day and nearly fall out of a tree. Then, when it became clear Billy had no desire to return to the houses of Reconciliation, it was helping Ned convince Boyd to let Billy stay in the upper rooms the Cryptonomica, as Kirby turned out to be fluent in sign language and quite eager to have company from someone not three to four decades his senior. Then there’s been the dead-end search for what the hell the Quell is after and the fact that all mers at the Lodge have been directed to stay out of the water until further notice, meaning Indrid and the others have begun to feel a bit on-edge with no respite from the soupy heat of a southern summer. 

He’s at the end of his rope. 

Which is why, when Indrid casually asks if he’d like to go somewhere private and cool for the evening, he follows him without question, until-

“Thought we were supposed to be steerin’ clear of water.”

“Any water that another of my kind could enter without a human disguise. This is a man-made lake, with very clear water, and I am watching the futures to be certain no one will interrupt us.” Indrid sets his glasses on a rock and dives into the water. Duck tugs off his shoes, strips down and sets his clothes beside them.

“You can take off all of it, if you wish, as I said we will not be disturbed.”

“Seems like you’re anglin’ for somethin’.” Duck teases as he pulls off his underwear. 

Indrid flicks his ears playfully in response, and sinks under the water as Duck wades in after him. He watches purple flicker out towards him in ribbons as Indrid swims in a wide figure eight, fin peeking from the clear water as he rolls and turns. 

Duck watches him, treading water and smiling when the purple is joined by pink and blue and the end of Indrid’s tail drags along the back of his legs. 

“Hello” Indrid purrs, leaning in to brush their cheeks together. 

“Howdy.” Duck chuckles as smooth scales twine between his thighs, then down and around his right leg, “somethin’ you want, darlin’?”

“You. Or, more accurately, to reward you for your good behavior several days ago. Would you still like to see what a merman keeps beneath his scales?”

“You know I do.” Duck tries to wraps his arms around Indrid’s waist and promptly remembers it’s hard for him to stay afloat without them. Indrid laughs as he flails, pulls him close with arms and tail, trilling softly as Duck holds onto him. He’s sorely tempted just to stay here, let Indrid do whatever he pleases with his tail and hands and whatever is stirring beneath his scales. But he has a better idea.

“Now, my pet, shall weACKphhbt” Indrid shakes his head after Duck directs an immense splash at his face. While the merman is distracted, Duck slips away, backstroking until the end of the tail snags his ankle. 

“Recall you sayin’ somethin about chase bein’, uh, customary for mer flirtin.”

The purple deepens as it zips up his tail, “Are you going to make me pursue you, my sweet human.”

In response, Duck reaches down and drags his nails along the sensitive band of Indrid’s tail, the one that always makes him trill when he pets it. The tail flexes with pleasure, allowing Duck to free his foot and swim away. 

He’s a strong swimmer, and doesn't stop until he’s in the center of the lake. Indrid is behind him, a blur of silvery-blue, purple, and pink speeding through the water. But instead of emerging or making a grab for Duck, he shoots past him, raising up just enough to splash him with his tail. His laugh ricochets off the trees as he chases after him, only for Indrid to execute an elegant U-turn and launch back towards Duck. The human braces to be captured, ripples bouncing off his left side as Indrid moves to pass him at the last instant. 

“Better swim, little human, or you’re liable to be caught.” He lilts, head appearing just long enough to utter the taunt before submerging once more. 

Duck takes the hint, swimming as hard as he can back towards shore. When he hazards a look back, all he sees is a fin slicing the water in his wake. Exhilaration and curiosity mingle in his blood and he swims faster, wondering if he can actually outpace Indrid. Another look back shows the fin at the exact same distance behind him. On a hunch, he slows down.

The fin slows right along with him, staying the same distance away. 

Indrid could catch him whenever he wants. He’s toying with him. The thought makes desire bloom in his chest and soak into every inch of him. He wishes he could signal the way Indrid does, coat himself in the colors of “yes” and “now.”

His wishes distract him from the fin moving closer, from the nails and fingers encircling his ankles. He jerks backwards, grateful that Indrid grabs him slowly enough to give him a chance to hold his breath. His eyes peek open in the clear water, and he finds Indrid has chased him almost to shore. 

“Got you.” Indrid’s voice, tinged with siren song, reaches his ears. He lets go and Duck’s feet find sand and smooth pebbles, water up to his chest.

Duck waits until Indrid’s grinning face appears above the water line, “Not yet you don’t.” 

He hurries backwards, water splashing every which way. With appealingly terrifying speed, Indrid shoots forward, knocking him to his back. His upper body lays in a few inches of warm water, his legs and hips still a little submerged as Indrid slithers atop him. 

“Such a lovely human I’ve caught. Whatever shall I do with him?”

“If I, I didn't know better, think you were gonna eat me.” Duck pants. 

“I will not, though it would be a fitting fate for a delicious morsel such as you.” Indrid leans forward, tongue dragging up Duck’s stomach and chest, scrapes his teeth along his shoulder, “no, my pet, your fate will be far better. I will treat you to so much pleasure that you will beg me never to release you.”

Something solid, made of twisting rides, ruts against his right thigh. He moans, then sits up with a start as the same is done to his left. 

“You have-”

“Two, yes.” Indrid raises up on his arms enough so Duck can look between them. Connecting to a center point in a “V” are two cocks, each made of four overlapping whirls, resulting in four ridges, red like Indrid’s fins. Their bases are hidden within the chamber from which they emerged, but they’re large enough that Duck blurts out his next question without thinking.

“How, uh, how much is gonna be goin’ in?”

Indrid’s smile morphs from predatory to gentle instantly, “As much or as little as you wish. For all my talk of prey and catching, you control how we proceed. You are my treasured human; I will never push you further than you wish to go.”

“Can we, uh, start with just one?”

Indrid nods, bends to kiss him once on the lips and then plant a row of them down his neck to his shoulder. Nudges the shoulder until Duck reclines against the sand, then returns to kiss him over and over again as the human spreads his legs and the cool, ridged head of a cock pushes in.

“Jesus” he breathes out, then gasps and kicks his heels into the sand as each ridge begins pulsing in independent rhythms. 

“Ohhhh” Indrid’s moan is accompanied by an erratic flutter of his tail, “oh you are so warm my pet. It feels so strange, so wonderful, ah, ah I would like to do this all evening, possiblyEEE, all week.” He grins proudly as Duck sucks a bruise into his throat.

“Feelin’ about the same over, fuck, hereFUCK, fuck it’s like you’re fuckin’ me five ways at once.”

In the late afternoon light, Indrid’s scales are still flashing deep purple as he purrs, thrusting languidly in and out of Duck, his other cock still dragging slick, pearly mess up and down Duck’s thigh and into the crease of his hip. The human loses himself in the steady drum of their joined heartbeats, the lapping water each time Indrid flutters or flaps his tail, the low trills that leave him to mingle with Duck’s moans each time they kiss. 

Then he groans as strange, slick skin pets at his cock.

“Fuck, Indrid, what, what the fuck is that?” 

“Yet another means of insuring you are boneless from pleasure when we are done.”

Duck looks down sees several small, silvery tentacles, like those on anemones, curling and stroking along his cock. 

“T-thought you said you don’t have tentacles.” Duck giggles. 

Indrid pauses, head cocked, “These are tendrils, not tentacles. Were I tentacled, there would be half a dozen appendages much larger than these inside you already.” He resumes thrusting and Duck resumes laying on the ground making increasingly obscene noises as Indrid seeks out every sensitive point inside and out. 

A ridge finds the base of his cock just as two tendrils stroke faster and faster and he grabs hold of Indrid’s hips.

“Darlin, fuck, please, I’m so goddamn-”

“-Close, I know my sweet, I, I can feel you tightening around me. Won’t you be a good boy and cum for me?”

“Yeah, yes, I’ll be so fuckin’ good, do anythin’ fuck, _fuck_ , Indrid” His climax hits all at once, and there’s an instant where he sees not only stars but whole galaxies behind his lids as Indrid fucks him through it, licking and sucking at his skin as he purrs praise.

As he relaxes, the tendrils retreat and Indrid stops, pulling most of the way out before Duck prevents him, hooking his ankles around the meat of his tail to keep him close.

“Nuh uh. Wanna keep bein’ good for you.”

“Is that so?” Indrid licks the points of his teeth, eyeing Duck appreciatively, “it will not be painful for you?”

“Nope. Never had much trouble with uh, goin’ multiple rounds so to speak.” His gaze moves between the cock still inside him and it’s twin, still straining towards him. If he got the strongest orgasms of his life from just one of them…

“I wanna take both.”

“ _Yessss_ ” Indrid sits up, managing to support himself on his tail alone, reminding Duck more of a snake than a fish. Gingerly, he guides the second cock to join the first, the tip and first inch fitting without trouble. 

“That is a sight” Indrid rolls his hips, adding a sharp push at the end of each motion to slowly open him, and Duck whimpers each time, the ridges now rippling at every possible angle, “my sweet human, so eager to take all of me.”

“Yes, so much darlin, wannaAHfuck, want all of younnhn” his fingers dig beneath the sand, searching for something to hold as the pressure increases, “might fuckin fail but I’m sure as shit gonna try.”

“I do so love your determination. In many ways it is what drew us together.” Indrid slips a hand beneath each knee, “that and your mouthwatering form, goodness I adore the shape of you beneath my hands.”

The words are so earnest, so steeped in love, that Duck blushes like a goddamn virgin and feels no shame about it. 

“Now” The grip on his knees tightens and Indrid bares his teeth, “be a good little pet and take what you are given.” 

Duck cries out loud enough to scare the birds from the trees as Indrid plunge the rest of the way.

“Oh yes, YES” the merman cackles, delighted, as he rams into Duck over and over, “ahn, that’s a good human, mmmm, oh I can see you straining to take me, goodness, to see you so full of me it’s, it’s-” he gives up on his thought, dropping down to swallow Ducks moans in a toothy kiss. 

It’s as if Indrid is every now, inside and out, teeth and mouth feasting on his lips and groans as quick hands tangle in his hair or skate up his sides. Indrid’s tail is thrashing, catching Duck’s legs and flinging sand left and right as he pumps into him. Duck’s legs fair no better, flailing in the warm sand and water as he tugs at Indrid’s hair and zig-zags scratches along his back. 

When the tendrils find his cock again he bites Indrid’s upper arm to stifle the sound, certain he could be heard by ships at sea if he didn’t. The pleasure of it is every where, in and on and through him, his body so hot he’s amazed the sand doesn't turn to glass beneath him. Even though he whimpers and writhes as it skirts the edge of too-much, he would not escape from Indrid’s hold even if he could. 

A bubbling trill is the only warning he gets before Indrid doubles his force, the ridges shifting from supple to hard within him and making him keen.

“That’s it my darling, my human, my Duck, let me hear just how good I make you feel, mmmmm” he wiggles back and forth for a beat, finding the only spots of Duck left untouched and making him whine with joy, “ohh your cries are sweeter than any song of, of my kind could ever be, ah, yes, heh” he smirks “you are about to come once more, my sweet, and when you are through you will take every ounce of me that spills into you.”

“Uhuh, fuck, darling, _yes_ , I will, I’ll be good, so fuckin’-” he cuts off with a needy gasping moan as he cums. There’s no respite this time, Indrid fucking him relentlessly, voice lustful and tender in his ear as he nuzzles his throat

“So close my pet, so close, yes, yes, oh you are mine, all mine, all _mine_.” His teeth find the base of Ducks neck as he trills high and pulses into Duck, tail flashing a new color each second. It tingles and Duck whimpers at the new source of pleasure as it drips down his thighs, the sound continuing even as Indrid pulls out and his tail returns to it’s usual hue. 

When he regains enough control of his body to roll onto his side, he finds the merman splayed out, facing the sky as the slit on his tail closes and the red tip of it fluttering limply. 

“Gracious.”

“No fuckin kiddin’” 

Indrid turns his head to look at Duck, laughs softy, “See, I am not always poetic in matters of sex. Sometimes a spectacularly attractive human steals all my words away.”

“Any time you want, darlin. Aw fuck.” He sits up, discovering all the places sand has gotten that are not places sand should be.

“Agreed. I think there is some in my ears.” Said ears flick, like a cats would if a fly kept landing on them. 

“Still worth it.” Duck scoots across the sand to pet strands of hair from Indrid’s face and kiss his forehead.

“Absolutely. But so are all things that involve you, my treasure.”

\---------------------------------------

“Well, I got good news and bad news.” Mama settles at the head of the table where they’re gathered, maps and books still strewn across it, “good news is, Aubrey and me figured out what The Quell is after. See, the fight that sunk her wasn’t the only time _The Sylvain_ lost her main mast. There was another time when she and Sylvia Diaz were just startin’ out that they got into a hell of a battle with an English Naval ship sent to stop them. Mast fell, and both women were injured. Story goe The Quell found a piece of the mast that was stained with blood from both of ‘em. She took it, had it bound in gold and amber, and made into a necklace she gave to Diaz as a weddin’ present when they were married. The stone was always called “The Heart of Sylvain.”

“And the bad news?” Duck wipes sweat from his neck, the day hotter than seems fair. 

“We still ain;t sure what she needs it for. And we ain’t the only ones lookin’-”

Indrid jumps up, knocking his chair back, “Mama, we need to get you out of here, right now, there is no more time.”

Banging on the door downstairs.

“If no one lets them in, we have time to get you on a boat out into the swamp were you can wait them out.”

Creaking as the door opens

“Guess we better see who is. But I think I know.” Mama sighs, heading out the door and down the stairs before the others can stop her. 

Hayes, with four armed men, is waiting at the bottom of them in the hall. Next to him, hand still on the door, is Stern. Barclay tenses behind Duck, and he spies Aubrey reaching out to hold the cooks hand reassuringly. 

“Madeline Cobb?”

“That’s me.”

“I am placing you under arrest by the government of the United States.”

“What?”

“You can’t-”

“On what grounds?” Ned calls.

“For the death of August Falwell.”

“There’s only five, we can take them right?” Aubrey whispers.

Mama shakes her head sadly, turning to look at them, “I ain’t riskin the rest of you gettin’ shot.” She turns back to Hayes, “Alright, no need to drag this out. I’m comin’.” 

As soon as her hands are cuffed, Hayes turns to Stern, “You will collect your things and meet us on the ship.”

“Yes, sir.” Stern salutes as the men file out of the Lodge, Mama turning a glare at the members of Reconciliation gawking near the door. 

As soon as it shuts, Stern turns to Barclay, seeming none to concerned with the four other people furious with him. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? _Sorry_?” Barclay growls, “what did you tell them?”

“Nothing I did not observe myself. It was what needed to be done.”

“What needed to be-” Barclay’s hands become fists as he stomps forward, backing Stern into the wall, “my best friend just got hauled off on what we both know is a goddamn false murder charge, don’t you dare talk to me about what needed to be done.”

“People are _dying_ Barclay, and Mama knows more than she’s letting on.”

Barclay stops, takes two deep breaths, “Do you have any idea what they’ll do to us now? How vulnerable you’ve made us.”

“I...Barclay, what do you mean? I promise, if the Lodge is in danger I can help protect it.”

A mirthless, deep chuckle, “too late for that. Out.” He points to the door.

“I need to-”

Barclay grabs his collar, dragging him across the floor, “No, you don’t. There isn’t anything you here you can't afford to be without, and you’ve already done enough. Get out.” he throws the door open, showing the other man through it, “and don’t come back.”

The slam reverberates through Ducks bones as Barclay slumps against the wood, sinking to the floor. Dani, at the head of a small group of mers who’d been hiding in the dining room, hurries out to kneel next to him, and he buries his face against her shoulder. 

“Um, so, this is not really good news? But Mama didn’t tell you guys everything. And there’s something I need to show you. Something that might help us save her. Save everyone.” Aubrey crosses to Mama’s office, and there’s a creaking of wood and clank of metal before she returns with a small box.

“My mom gave this to me before she died. She said it was a family heirloom, and I haven;t worn it in a long time because, well, because it made me think of her in a way that only hurt.”

She opens the box. Sitting on a bed of black velvet is a necklace, with an amber stone. And at the stones center is a jagged, heart-shaped piece of wood.


	8. To the Depths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indrid makes a plan. Duck asks a favor. Stern makes a request.

“I do not mean to alarm anyone-”

“Think we’re well past that, darlin.” Duck doesn’t take his eyes off the stone.

“-But you may wish to conceal that before our visitor arrives in thirty seconds.”

“Shit!” Aubrey hisses, shoving the box into her vest pocket just as the front door swings open. Mr. Walker, clothes immaculate and smile as genuine as a false dime, enters.

“You’re Mrs. Cobbs second in command, correct?” He looks at Barclay with distaste.

“I’m, uh, just the cook.”

“I’m her assistant, I help run things.” Aubrey chimes in, distracting Walker long enough for Dani to direct a rude gesture his way. 

The man shrugs, “No matter” he hands Barclay a folded sheet of paper, “the end result is the same.”

“You’re evicting us.” Barclay sounds tired as he reads the notice, “any chance you’ll tell us why?”

“Simple; Mrs.Cobb has just been arrested for a heinous crime. The terms of our lease allow us to terminate it if a tenant is found comitting illegal acts.”

“Are you missin’ the part where she ain't been convicted of anythin’? And the part where none of the folks livin’ here full time are her?” Duck crosses his arms, and Walker notices him for the first time.

“Mr. Newton, correct? I know you’re an upstanding member of this town. Would you truly want us to let people who were drawn to such an unsavory character as Mrs. Cobb-”

Barclay growls.

“-remain so close to where citizens are trying to raise their children?”

“I’d like it a whole lot more than them bein’ raised around folks who’d put innocent people out on the street just so they could get a piece of property to themselves.” 

“Well, how lucky for us that what you want means nothing in this instance.” He turns back to Barclay, “you have until morning to be gone. Guests only a staying a few nights may remain; any permanent residents still here by tomorrow will be escorted out by the police.”

The slamming door punctuates the ultimatum. 

“Where the hell are we gonna go?” Barclay looks at Aubrey, who’s already pacing.

“Okay, a few more of us can stay at the Cryptonomica--no, Ned, that’s not negotiable, you still owe me--maybe one or two can stay with Duck?”

“Of course.”

“Good. That just leaves…” she counts out on her fingers, “still way too many without somewhere safe.”

“I could ask Leo, and a few other neighbors down in my neck of the woods.”

“What makes you think they’d be safe?” Barclay is slowly tearing the eviction notice to shreds, voice flat. 

“I trust Leo with my life, not to mention a mer saved him, kinda. And the others, well, there ain't any love lost between folks livin along the swamps and Reconciliation. Plenty of ‘em lost places they loved in town to it. Homes too."

“That’s fine then.” 

“Duck, if you can handle that, Aubrey and I can handle getting everyone packed and out. Leave it to us, okay?” Dani rubs Barclay’s forearm soothingly, and he pats her hand automatically. 

“Do my best.”

“And we shall do ours.” Indrid takes Duck’s hand, “I suggest we meet at Duck’s tomorrow to continue our planning. If my visions are any indication, we will need to work fast in order to avoid disaster.”

\-------------------------------------------------------

Indrid sees it happen in the flesh this time. 

He’s on patrol, searching for his fellow mers who are still in Kepler Bay and the surrounding patches of coast and waterway. They’ve all decided that the fewer mers are around over the coming days, the safer everyone, on land and in the sea, will be. It is no only possible corruption that they fear; Barclay learned enough from Stern to know Hayes is searching for a mer as well, and Indrid does not trust that human’s assertion that his captain would not actually harm whoever he caught. 

Because his foresight allows him to see danger coming, Indrid volunteered for this role. This does not stop Duck from anxiously watching him as he departs, or clinging tight as he kisses him upon his return. He wishes there was another option; the human has been run ragged the last few days. 

Recruiting Leo and his neighbors turned out to be the easiest piece. The older man listened patiently, nodding as Duck explained the situation and how it was Indrid who had lead to Leo being saved from the wreck. 

Between Duck’s neighbors, the Cryptonomica, and Aubrey’s mentor Janelle, they’ve found safe harbor for all the evicted mers. But as soon as that was sorted, Duck took on another task: combing every graveyard in New Orleans for a grave or memorial that might belong to one of the dead pirate queens. 

_“As far as I can tell, The Quell is operating by the same force all ghosts do; she has unfinished business” Aubrey says, circle of papers and books around her so voluminous that she sometimes disappears in them, “also, I found a book on rabbit keeping for magicians in here.”_

_“Why do you even have this stuff?” Dani looks at Ned, who’s flipping through half-rotted newspaper clippings with a frown._

_“Because the old bugger can’t bear to part with anythin’ valuable” Boyd offers, face-down on the table, stack of books perilously close to falling over on his head until Duck steadies them._

_“You were sayin’, Aubrey?”_

_“Right, um, so The Quell’s been seen all over as a ghost. But no one has ever, ever reported seeing Sylvia Diaz’s ghost. The two of them were super in love; why wouldn’t they be together in death?”_

_“Because...because something kept one of them from crossing over?” Dani hazards._

_“Close, honey, very close. Because Sylvia Diaz’s ghost is stuck somewhere!”_

_“The necklace” Indrid and Duck say as one, then Indrid shakes his head, “of course, it had not occurred to any of us to check it until you just said that. Now I see futures in which her spirit is released from it.”_

_“Right! The problem is, I have no idea how we get her out.”_

_“There must be something in these old tomes that contains such information.” Ned sets the clippings aside._

_“Probably. But that isn’t the only problem. I know some basic occult stuff, and even if we do bust Sylvia outta there, her ghost could get caught in something else, or be unable to find The Quell’s ghost. A way to avoid that is to release her near her grave, or something that acts as a memorial of where she died.”_

_“She died at sea and no one is even sure where.”_

_“Duck’s right, that’s way too broad an area to search.” Barclay adds from his post by the window._

_“I know. But that was never the place people went to pay their respects to her. That was right here in town.”_

_“The statue, we need to find the statue.” Dani hops up, grabbing a stack of maps._

_“Reconciliation got rid of it, remember?” Barclay doesn’t even turn their way this time._

_“Well, yeah, but maybe there’s an obvious place they put it.”_

_As the others divide the maps between them, Indrid crosses to stand beside Barclay. The Cryptonomica is just tall enough to see over the nearby buildings and out onto the bay._

_“You are looking for Hayes' ship?”_

_“Watching it, more like.” Barclay points to the left, “It’s that one.”_

_“How can you be certain?”_

_“Few nights ago I spotted it close enough to see the name through a spyglass. Tracked it until dusk, figured I’d lose it then. But one window lit up red rather than yellow. Like someone had a strange glass on their lantern. It’s done that every night, and it helps me find it. Whatever they’re looking for, they haven’t located it. The damn thing keeps sailing up and down the coast. Knowing Mama, she’s probably sending them on a bit of a wild goose chase.”_

_“She is a formidable woman; I do not envy Hayes. Well, I do not envy him for a variety of reasons, but you take my meaning.”_

_“I just hope they--she’s okay.”_

_Indrid lets his mind drift into the futures, follows the stream of them that leads to Mama this evening._

_He rests a hand on Barclay’s back, “She is well, and will remain so as far as I can tell.”_

_Barclay smiles, sad but grateful, and Indrid nearly tells him what else he saw. But thinks better of it, thinks the hurt may still be too much, and so he returns to his spot beside Duck to help with the maps._

They developed a secondary plan; if they can’t locate the statue, the hope is that somewhere, someone made a grave or marker for the two women that will work just as well. Duck, with his ties to the city grounds, is the one who can look for it without arousing suspicion. He's crossed three off the list with no luck. 

Indrid tries not to think too long on him as he swims, though he wishes he could be with him now, walking in the warm air between the crypts, rather than down here, suspicious of every shadow. 

He rounds a corner and a green glow throbs before him, just as he thought it would. He’s too late.

The mer, red tailed and friendly in his experience, makes a perplexed face as the light curls around her fingers. Then she doubles forward as it seeps into her skin, her tail losing scales and growing dull, her nails and teeth elongating. 

Far above them, he spys a ghostly hull retreating.

He turns, swimming as if all the monsters of the deep are behind him, until the poisonous light and lost friend are far, far behind. 

\--------------------------------------

“So she’s the one causing this?” Dani twists the ring on her finger anxiously as Indrid finishes relaying what he saw.

“Indeed, but I do not believe it is purposeful. As Aubrey noted, she is not a soul at peace. She is angry and grief-stricken, and she has been such for so long that it can no longer be contained within her. It has taken her ship, and now that vessel is saturated with such feelings and it is pouring out into the water.”

“If we stop her, do you think they’d go back to normal?” 

“That is a likely future, my love. And our efforts have not been in vain, there are very few mers left in the bay. But that will not last, as more will eventually come to claim what seems to be a safe, pleasant territory.”

“Well, we can cross out Lafayette Number Two, nothin’ there. Christ I wish we could find that damn statue.” He rubs his forehead, then jumps out of his skin when Billy taps him on the shoulder.

“Oh, hey kid, you and Kirby done lockin’ up.”

Billy nods, then signs quickly. Duck’s now rudimentary sign language is enough for him to catch “statue” and “looking for.”

“Holy shit!” Aubrey leans forward, “you know where they put it?”

An excited nod, Billy grabbing the nearby map of the bay. He scans it for a moment, then points to a small, unnamed island just off the western end. He signs again, Aubrey translating. 

“They took it there and locked it in a crypt with a bunch of other things. Things they stole.”

“Do you know why?” 

Billy shakes his head, signs, “I was just a set of hands to them.”

“Dipshits.” Duck grumbles. 

“Yeah, but we knew that. The good news is, we know where to go now! And honestly, I’m pretty ready to just take this thing” she pats her pocket, “and like smash it on the statue to see if that works.”

The others exchange a look. 

“Fuck it,” Duck grabs the map and rolling it up, “that sounds like the best plan we got. How do we wanna do this?” 

Just as Aubrey is about to respond, Indrid cuts in.

“We may wish to wait a day more. There is someone else who can help us, and I believe I know just where to find him.”

\------------------------------------

Stern brushes off his lapels, says a prayer to anyone who may care to help him, and knocks on the door. 

“Come in.” Hayes barks, not looking up when Stern enters, salutes, and stays standing before his desk. 

“Captain, there’s something we need to discuss.”

“I don’t suppose that means you’ve finally located a mermaid for me.”

“No, sir, it does not. I...I think we should let Madeline Cobb go, sir. She clearly does not have the information you believe she does, and we are wasting our time and holding her prisoner under what I believe are false pretenses-”

“Stern, she’s a murderer.”

“I don’t think she is. There is literally no evidence. And besides, if she is guilty of a crime, she deserves a trial, not automatic imprisonment on our ship.”

“I do not recall asking for your input on the matter.”

“You have not, but you have trusted my judgement in the past, I thought-”

“She stays. That’s final.”

He grits his teeth, “Sir, Reconciliation lied to you. I corroborated the alibi Mrs. Cobb gave the last time I went ashore.”

Hayes looks up, “What makes you think they are involved in this?”

“It is no secret they disliked Mrs. Cobb, and that they were trying to push her out. I imagine they were all too happy to make her a scapegoat.” He catches sight of Hayes regarding him with unbridled suspicion and tries to swallow his realization down, only for it to claw it’s way back up. 

“You were aware of that, weren’t you. You’re letting them control what happens to her.”

“This conversation is over, Stern.”

He wants to say more, decides against it, “of course, sir.”

“Oh, and Stern? I suppose you can keep that information to yourself.”

“Yes, sir.”

He’s only two steps out of the cabin when he hears Hayes behind him. 

“Mr. Callaway, Mr. Walsh, please apprehend Mr. Stern. He has just threatened me with mutiny, and we must deal with him accordingly.

Stern’s protests go ignored, as do his cries of pain. At some point in the twenty lashes, he loses consciousness, his last thought being that he hopes Mama might let him go with her when she inevitably gets the better of them and escapes the brig.

He comes to with a sting of salt in his back and the lapping of waves at his legs. His clothes, save for his trousers, are gone, and he’s been without them for some time if the burning on his arms is any indication. 

His arms. They’re trapped above him, manacled to a tree. They’ve left him near the mouths of one of the rivers along the coast, where the forests have been gradually swallowed by the sea, leaving behind stragglers, half-submerged, like the one he’s bound to. No amount of tugging, no angle or leverage manages to free him, and soon he’s panting, cursing Hayes to hell and back. 

The movement aggravates his wounds, and with horror he watches blood trickle into the water. A hungry shark would be a painful death, but would no doubt be briefer than starvation. 

Five years. He served with Hayes five years. And now they will tell his family he died after an attempted mutiny. 

His thoughts ought to turn to them, to think of his mother and sisters in his final hours. Instead, he remembers deep brown eyes and a kind smile in the soft light of the kitchen in the morning. 

He never got to apologize. Not really. He hung the red lantern in his chamber, hoping Barclay would realize it was a way to track the location of his friend.

A fin cuts the water straight ahead of him. The shape beneath it is as large as a man, moving towards him rapidly, and he shuts his eyes, operating under the childish belief that if he can’t see the pain coming it won’t hurt as much. 

A _splash_ before him and he inhales his last breath. 

Then keeps right on breathing as a baritone voice says, “I found you.”

“Barclay?” He opens his eyes, finds the face of the man he loves, familiar arms reaching up to snap the chains in two and...and a strong, speckled tail that he recognizes. 

“You. You were Ned’s merman.” He falls forward, expecting to submerge, but Barclay cradles him close, keeping his head above water,

“Yep.”

He presses his face to Barclay’s neck, “I, I’m sorry, I, I should never-” the sob escapes him, and he’s too relieved to mind his own blathering, “you were wrong when you, you said there was nothing at the lodge I couldn’t live without. You were there. And every day we were apart my heart ached more, and I knew you would reject me if I returned, rightly so based on what, what I now know.”

“I missed you too.” Barclay murmurs into his hair as he holds him, “and even if you didn’t know a thing, even if you weren’t sorry, think I still would’ve come for you. I love you. Couldn’t leave you here like this.” Barclay rubs their cheeks together, purring low. 

“How did you even know? This is clearly remoOH, lord almighty what-”

“Hello” says the owner of the glowing red eyes and long tail that has just emerged in front of them, “see, Barclay, I told you he would be here. The others sent me ahead, in case a, ah, less friendly entity arrived while you two were waiting.”

“Less friendly?”

“Later, I’ll explain later, okay?” Barclay kisses his cheek.

“Yes, I believe there is much to explain on both sides ah, ahem” the voice that he now recognizes as Mr. Cold takes on a tinge of understanding as the merman turns away from where Barclay is now passionately kissing him, “nevermind. I shall give you some privacy. And warn you when the others are near in case things become too amorous.”

Barclay splashes his friend with his tail, then draws Stern into a kiss deeper than the ocean and as gentle as a sea breeze. 

\-------------------------------------------

“He’s after the heart too?” Aubrey tosses nervous sparks between her fingers as Stern finishes his story.

“Yes. He told me and some of his officers as much. It seems that he believes the heart will let him either kill or control the Quell, just neutralizing her as a threat. He settled on the idea that either a mer has it, or it is buried somewhere nearby, and that Mama knows the location of one or both of those things. But I suspect he’s motivated by greed as well. I think Reconciliation has offered him...something. In exchange for help in removing Mama from the picture.”

“That tracks with ‘em hidin’ the statue and doggin’ her so damn hard. Billy told Aubrey and me a little more; seems Reconciliation was real keen on findin a mer too, but he ain’t sure why.”

“Regardless” Indrid sets the map and a drawing of his own making on the table before everyone, “we must move tomorrow night at the latest if we are to prevent catastrophic damage to the mers and our loved ones on land. The plan with the best odds is thus: Boyd and Ned will go ahead to the island and begin opening the crypt, as Billy says it is well-locked. Barclay, Aubrey, and Dani will swim, with Dani towing Aubrey to allow for greater stealth, out to Haye’s ship and free Mama. She may not be needed for the process of releasing a ghost, but we’ll all feel better if she’s not trapped and possible collateral if the Quell attacks Hayes.”

“I’ll go with them.” Stern’s resolute tone halts the argument on Duck’s tongue, “it’ll help to have someone who knows the ship.”

“Guess I’m towing you.”

“That sounds rather fun.”

“Ahem. As I was saying, that group will then join Ned and Boyd at the island. Duck and myself will bring up the rear in case there are complications or sudden threats that need to be neutralized. Is that all understood.”

Nods of assent all around.

“Excellent.” Indrid claps his hands together, “then we should all get some rest. After all, we need our wits about us if we want to succeed tomorrow. Also I would like some extra time to sleep with Duck--what? No, not like that, I meant be atop him in bed? No, wait” Indrid rubs his temples, giggling as the others guffaw at his flustered smile, “nevermind. Goodnight everyone.”

\----------------------------------------

They watch the other two groups row and swim in their respective directions, Duck’s eyes on the horizon and Indrid’s on the future.

“Ned and Boyd landed safely” he says after a while, “though it seems the others are having a harder time, now that Stern’s no longer aboard to light a red lamp.”

“Think we should help?”

“No, unless I swim out ahead and” he freezes, eyes widening behind his glasses but face staying calm, “oh my love, I am sorry. I saw too late.”

“Mr Newton and Mr.Cold. Out for a midnight stroll?” Mr.Walker’s voice loops like a noose behind them.

There’s the unmistakable sound of hammers clicking as Indrid says, “Stargazing, in fact. If we are in your way, we can go.”

“No no, not all. In fact, you’ll be coming with us. Assuming you wish to keep your heads intact.”

They stand, gun barrels prodding them down the beach to a small sailboat, anchored and waiting. 

“Now” Walker continues as his men bind their arms to their sides, “I am going to ask you once, and only once, what you and the others are planning.”

Both men stay silent. 

Walker rolls his eyes, “very well. It doesn’t matter either way” the boat pushes off, “we’ll get our mermaid one way or another.”

“Why do you even want one?” Duck glowers at Walker and the men still binding Indrid’s ankles. 

“Why does anyone want any exotic creature? Money, of course. Money from selling mers to private collectors, money from selling their fins and tails to those who think such things are remedies for impotence.”

Only Duck sees Indrid’s eyes squeeze shut, the way he shudders at the words. His own chest is heavy with dread. And so he covers it with stubbornness.

“They’re mer _people_ you dipshit. You can’t do that do ‘em. Or, well, I guess you can, but you fuckin’ shouldn’t and you know it.”

“What do I care? A profit is a profit, however it comes to be. We nearly had our first, but then it seems it ate William and August. That’s why we need Hayes; he’ll lead us to the heart, which will head us to The Quell, which will lead us to the mermaids who one of my informers say have turned, ah, aggressive. Hayes having the heart with do nothing to stop the Quell, other than make her angry.”

“How-”

“Your friend Ms. Little is not the only one with knowledge of the occult. And it will be all the easier to silence those with qualms about our work if every mer they see is mindless and bloodthirsty”

A hiss burbles from Indrid, but is so soft Walker does not hear it.

“Reconciliation was all a, ah, a mask for your activities?” Indrid bites out.

“Have you ever known a charity that wasn’t? No one does good for goods sake.”

“That is the biggest load of bullshit I ever heard.”

“No matter. And I’m bored of this conversation.” He nods at his henchmen, who pull Indrid and Duck to different sides of the boat. Duck sees the weight, tied to the rope, and understands.

“There ain’t any reason to do this, Walker.”

A derisive snort, then, “to the depths.”

Duck’s back, then head hit the water, and he watches the outline of the hull grow smaller as the weight pulls him down, down, and down.


	9. Surfacing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indrid dives. Mama steers. Dani protects.

His arms come free first, his strength allowing him to snap the ropes even as the pressure of the water bears down on him. 

His legs pose a greater issue; the weight is tied to them, adding resistance as it drags him towards the ocean floor. He’s losing breath with every second. Even if he frees himself, his lungs may empty before he has a chance to swim to the surface. 

Red and silver slices through the dark water, a tail curling around his waist as teeth rip the remaining ropes to shreds. The sudden shift to an ascent makes him dizzy, threatens to shove the last of his breath away. 

Then the world comes roaring back, the sounds of the night and heat of air on his face. Never has he been happier to feel the sticky cling of a Louisiana summer evening. 

“Oh thank goodness.” Indrid embraces him, yellow light fading up and down his scales, “I feared I would be too late.”

“Just in time.” Duck coughs water. Indrid pets his hair soothingly with one hand, opens his other to reveal now-broken glasses. 

“Not to fear” he says when he sees Duck looking at them, “the enchantment holds even if the lenses are gone. Which means I continue with my role in the plan.”

“Right...oh _fuck_ , Indrid, did they see you?”

“No. The water is dark, their focus elsewhere, and while they are cruel they had no interest in staying to watch us sink. There was only one future where they saw me, and it did not come to pass.”

“That’s one future too many in my book. You heard what they said? What if they’d taken you? Killed you?”

“I would rather risk such things than lose the man I love most in all the world.” Indrid rests their foreheads together.

“Indrid.” Duck holds tight to his shoulders, the echos of what might have been still clawing at his mind. 

“I am here, my love. We both are. Waterlogged, but alive.”

“Yeah.” He murmurs, breathing finally returning to normal. 

“We are here and now we must go help our friends. And hopefully deliver some, how do you put it, ah yes” he grins “payback.”

\-------------------------------------------------

They missed a look-out. 

Stern had directed them to where the usual three were stationed across the ship. What he did not, and could not, have known was that after his punishment Hayes added one more man to the night-watch. 

Which is why, when they emerged with Mama from the brig and hurried up to the deck to make their escape, the entire crew was waiting for them, guns drawn.

“I must admit I was expecting this eventually. But your being here is a shock, Stern.” He glares at him as the quintet raises their hands in surrender.

“Am I to assume telling you we’ve figured out how to prevent further death would go about as well as telling you we should stop holding Mama prisoner?”

"Wait, really?" Mama arches an eyebrow his way.

“Given you broke onto my ship, I doubt you can be trusted. And you are forgetting yourself when addressing an officer above your rank. Stern.”

“Given you left me for dead, I don’t believe I’m a member of your crew anymore _Hayes_.” 

“So, you’re after the heart, right?” Aubrey chimes in just as Hayes takes a step towards Stern.

“Yes, Ms. Little, we are.”

“You know it’s on that island over there right?” She points towards the small circle of land in the distance. Barclay sees what she’s doing at the same moment Mama does. Hayes, however, seems more suspicious of her than ever. 

“Why’d you tell him that?” Barclay hisses.

“Just trying to negotiate.” She responds defensively, winking as soon as Hayes turns back to wheel. They may have a fight on their hands once they get there, but Barclay's not going to complain about an enemy taking them right where they need to go. 

“Set a course for that island. Once we’re there, we’ll figure out what to do with this collection of criminals.”

The ship changes course, the island grows larger at a fast pace. And the hair on Barclay’s neck stands as straight as a dorsal fin. 

“You feel that?” He whispers to Dani.

“Uh huh. Whatever it is, I hate it.”

“She’s behind us.” Aubrey whispers. Mama nods, draws the others closer to her protectively. 

“I hope you know, your assistance will not do much to help your case.” Hayes calls over his shoulder.

“No surprise there.” Barclay mutters. 

“Then again, if you cooperate with Reconciliation-”

“Hayes.”

“-They may-”

“Hayes!”

“Stern, I swear, you are already marked as dead in our records, so stop speaking out of turn!”

“I just thought you might want to know you’re being pursued.” Stern points to their port side, where a green, spectral mast is appearing out of the air. 

“Fuck me.” Mama groans as the ship comes fully into view, The Quell barking furious orders at the helm. Around them, Hayes men begin scrambling away from the ghost ship.

“Um, Aubrey?” Dani says softly, taking her girlfriend’s hand, “if it’s a ghost ship, can it actually hurt us.”

“I got a really bad feeling we’re about to find out.” Aubrey points to the cannon mouths aimed at Haye’s ship.

The first barrage fires, cannonballs seeming to dissolve as they hit the hull. Then the spots where they hit begin weathering, decaying before their eyes. 

Gunshots from _The Sylvain_ ’s crew, and two sailors stumble back, hit, before their eyes go milky and pale. 

At the sight of their ill shipmates, panic erupts across the deck, sailors fleeing left and right, several taking to longboats as the rest hurry below deck, dragging Hayes--who flings consternated curses the whole way--along with them until Mama and the others are all that remain.

“Don’t suppose you know how to pilot a ship?” Barclay turns to Stern hopefully. 

“Not really. I was a science officer.”

Another barrage of cannons, and the ship shudders beneath their feet. Mama strides across the deck and up to the wheel.

“No point in returnin fire, though if Aubrey can magic us up some kind of shield that’d be real helpful. I’ll steer, the rest of you follow orders and we might make it there in one piece.”

“Wait, you can pilot a ship this big?” Aubrey says with an excited smile.

A gust of wind nearly takes her hat, but Mama jams it back down on her heads and grips the wheel, smiling right back, “Kiddo, what do you think I was doin’ before I opened the Lodge?”

\-------------------------------------------

“See anythin’?”

Indrid peeks over the rock “only the men who were in the boat.”

“I meant in the futures.”

“We are about to have company.”

“That don’t sound-” a hand clamps over his mouth from behind and he bites down on it. 

“ _OW_ , bloody hell Newton it’s me.” Boyd hisses in his ear as Ned joins the three of them in their hiding place, “what took you lot so long?”

“They tried to drown us.” Indrid inclines his head towards the crypt. 

“So much for being paragons of morality.” Ned says with an obvious lack of surprise.

“Did you manage to get in before they got here?”

“Indeed we did. And young Billy was correct, the statue has been languishing here. Unfortunately we could not do much else without the others. Who have also been delayed, it seems.”

“That ain’t a good sign.”

“Nor is that.” Indrid taps Duck, not looking away from the sea. 

Barreling towards them is Haye’s ship, with _The Sylvain_ right on her heels. 

“We need to go into the crypt this instant” Indrid grabs Duck, pulling him up and across the sand. 

“What about the-”

“-guards, I am working on that.” Indrid calls to the men who are drawing their pistols, “if you do not wish to be overrun by a ghostly horde you will follow us inside!”

They follow him inside as there’s the tremendous thud of Haye’s ship running aground. Ned stays out the door, signalling their friends and then slamming it shut once they’re inside. 

“So” Aubrey pants, “as you can see, things did not go according to plan.”

“I do not understand. The Quell is early, it is as if…” Indrid looks at the back of the crypt and sighs, “as if someone has done something to invoke her ire.”

Strewn about the floor are chunks of stone, all that remains of the statue of the pirate queens. Walker stands over them proudly.

“I wasn’t certain what role the statue played, only that you were heading here. From the looks on your faces, it was rather significant.”

“Yeah, significant in keepin’ a real pissed off pirate from turnin us all into the livin dead or some shit!” Duck yells, the whispers of ghostly voices drawing nearer.

“Fuck it” Aubrey kneels down, takes the necklace from her jacket and grabs a nearby chunk of stone, “Indrid, does this stand like any chance of working?”

“Some.” 

“Good enough.” She raises the stone and brings it down with all her might. It stays intact. She tries again, adds a frustrated shout on the third attempt. Walker makes a move towards her, only for Mama to lift the rifle she commandeered and shake her head. 

“Any ideas?” Aubrey looks to the others. Slowly, Indrid turns to Duck, rests his hand on his arm. 

“I know you hate it, my love, but it may come in handy one last time.”

Duck nods, draws Beacon as Aubrey stands up and out of his way.

Ghostly hands appear through the crypt door.

Duck swings the sword down. 

A crack of ozone and orange light, the clatter of a shattering sword, and a golden, fluid figure ricocheting off the walls as if searching for something. It circles the room three times, then zooms through the air and straight into Aubrey’s chest. The young woman doubles over just as the ghost crew floods the room. 

The friends draw close to one another, Barclay trying to shield both Mama and Stern as Indrid steps in front of Duck.

The Quell pauses before them, eyes raking through their souls. Then she turns, takes in the destroyed memorial as she approaches Walker. 

_You did this_? She steps closer.

“It needed to be done.” The man backs against the wall as The Quell draws her blade. 

Then the ghost does the most alarming thing possible. She laughs, low and knowing.

 _I have known many men like you, James Walker._

The blade enters his stomach, edges fading in and out of existence as it does. Walker stares down in horror as the Quell.

 _I think the world could do with one fewer of them._ She holds the sword steady as rot spreads through him, his face draining first of color, then fat, then skin, a wordless scream on his lips.

When his skeleton clatters to the floor, she turns, floating to where Dani is still holding Aubrey.

“Don’t touch her.” The mermaid hisses

The Quell puts a hand on Dani’s cheek. Before their eyes, the pirate dissolves into red light that spins in the air a moment before fading into Dani’s chest. 

Both young women straighten, Aubrey’s eyes glowing deep orange and Dani’s a deeper red. 

"Forgive me, my love, I never meant to become trapped" Aubrey says in a voice that is at once hers and not.

"There is nothing to forgive you for. I, on the other hand, have much to answer for." Dani responds, "but even so, now that you are here with me, I am ready to move on."

"Then break the spell" Aubrey smiles, and Dani leans in, cupping her cheeks in a kiss. As this kiss deepens, the lights rise up and out of the women, become red and orange figures above them, still wrapped in an embrace. 

Aubrey and Dani wobble for a moment, steadying each other as they look up.

 _Thank you_ two voices say as one.

Then the ghosts, their crew, and the ship are gone.

“That was weird.” Aubrey whispers. 

“Uh huh.” Dani replies. 

“At least we got to kiss?”

“We kiss all the time, fireblossom.” Dani giggles, rubbing their cheeks together. 

“Sooo, just to be sure” Duck says, Indrid still gripping his arm in a mixture of wonder and fear, “neither of you are still, um, ghosts?”

“Nope!”

“No.”

“Thank fuck. Gotta say I had my fill of ghostly shit for the rest of my life.”

“With you there, Duck. Also, prefer not to hang around here. I ain’t eaten a real meal in more’n a week, Duck’s half-drowned, and Barclay hit his head when a beam came down durin the chase. Think it’s time for us to head home.”

“What about them?” Stern points to the remaining members of Reconciliation, who are huddled and eyeing their leader’s bones with terror. 

Mama sighs, then calls, “you fellas wanna go home?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“We’ll take you. But in exchange” she points out the door, “you gotta make sure Hayes and his men stay below deck til we get to shore. After that well” she slings the rifle over her shoulders as she watches them notice Indrid’s glowing eyes, Dani’s sharp teeth, and Aubrey’s sparking fingers, “I’m sure we can all work somethin out.”


	10. What Remains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mama negotiates. Stern constructs. Duck paints.

As early summer gives way to the dog days, most citizens of New Orleans notice little different about the city. The mornings ooze into afternoons and give way to warm evenings. Heat hangs heavy off the trees, and even the rivers seem to move slower. 

But just beneath the surface, the world is changing. 

The mers who fled Kepler Bay and it’s surrounding inlets return, finding old haunts still intact and greeting friends they feared lost to The Quell with joyful trills. The merfolk of Amnesty Lodge find they are once again able to swim in the waters near their home without fear. 

On land, the Lodge is once again in the capable hands of Mama. Those who take note of the change use it as further proof that trying to harm her or her loved ones is unwise. The shuttered doors of the Council for Reconciliation bolster this theory. 

The Council offered no explanation for it’s closure other than their leader has gone on permanent leave, and they feel they cannot continue without him. A keen resident of the city may notice that their departure comes on the heels of Captain Hayes taking his ship and crew and sailing back to New York a day after returning Mama to shore. 

The reality was rather close to what many passersby imagined

_“Here’s how this is gonna go. You fellas are gonna stock up, and then you’re gonna sail back wherever you came from. In exchange, we won’t tell anyone about you usin’ your position to try an fill your own fuckin pockets.” Mama sits in her office, feet up on her desk, as Hayes glares at her._

_“You have no way of proving that.”_

_“Then consider it a thank you for your ship not being at the bottom of the sea. Mama is the reason we outran The Sylvain.” Stern looks up from where he’s checking Barclay--for the fifth time- for injuries._

_“Damn right. And we do have proof. Soon as Duck brings Billy here.”_

_“Wait, William is alive?” The men from Reconciliation exchange a puzzled look._

_“Yep, and he chose to stay with us rather’n go back to you. Might wanna think that over. Ah, here they are.”_

_Duck and Indrid enter with Billy, who proudly presents Mama with a stack of papers and a ledger._

_“Those got plenty of proof about what y’all were really doin’. You too, Hayes.” Duck says with grim satisfaction._

_“How did-”_

_“Stole them.” Billy signs._

_“I’m so proud.” Ned pats the seat on the other side of him, Boyd, sound asleep on his shoulder._

_“We got a deal?” Mama stands._

_“I suppose we do.” Hayes holds out his hand as the men from the council nod, and Mama shakes it._

_“Good. Now get the hell out of my house.”_

_When the defeated men are gone, the others begin dispersing back to their rooms, ready to reclaim them after being thrown out by Reconciliation._

_“I’ll talk to Leo in the mornin’” Duck yawns, “start gettin folks belongin’s back here.”_

_“Thanks, Duck.”_

_“Um, I don’t suppose anyone knows where I might stay? Another hotel perhaps?” Stern asks quietly._

_“You’re not staying here?” Barclay takes his hand, gazing up with worry._

_“I helped Hayes for far too long, then failed to get him to release Mama. Doubt I will be too popular here.”_

_Mama shoots a glance at Barclay, smiles fondly, “You helped with the rescue, took orders when I gave ‘em, and nearly became shark food arguin’ on my behalf, accordion to Barclay. Think that settles any score between us. Amnesty’s your home too, if you want it to be.”_

_“Thank you. Um, in that case, oh, alright, um, goodnight!” He calls as Barclay drags him from the room._

_Mama shakes her head with a chuckle before turning to Duck and Indrid, “Alright lovebirds, you get too. We had a hell of a day, and if I don’t see a bed soon, I’m liable to fall asleep standin’ up.”_

_They say their goodnights, and then he and Indrid make their way, still a bit sore from almost drowning, but elated nonetheless, towards home._

There are other changes around town. The Cryptonomica closes its mermaid exhibit, and opens a new one in it’s place.

“Behold! The weird and astounding goatman!”

“Christ, Ned, really?” Duck stares at the platform, where Billy is waving at him from beneath layers of greasepaint and false fur. 

“I volunteered. Just cleaning the exhibits is too boring.” 

“Alright kid, I believe you. Just make sure Ned gives you a cut.” He pats the young man’s back fondly before heading into the back room. Stern is seated at a table, painstakingly writing out a plaque for what are labeled as “Skunk Ape” prints. 

“Good afternoon Duck.”

“Afternoon, Joe, asked around and Minerva and Juno might both have some leads for you about work with the city. Y’know, so you ain’t stuck makin’ fakes for Ned the rest of your life. Though I gotta say those are better than the ones he usually has."

“I have to admit, my own talent for them is a bit, um, worrying to me. Then again, I’ve long been interested in the unexplained and mythological. I guess that makes me more meticulous when creating facsimiles of them. You’ll let me know if they learn of openings?”

“Yep. Juno knows you’re at the Lodge too, so she may come find you herself.”

“Thank you.” Stern gives him a friendly wave as he steps out of the room, leaving the man to his casts and plaques. 

As he walks towards the edge of the city center, he spots Aubrey performing for an entranced crowd. Dani stands off to the side, applauding her after every trick. The engagement ring, newly placed, glints on her finger in the late afternoon sunlight. 

The journey home is uneventful, as it is most days. The house has stayed slightly cool, and the stray cat (who Duck has finally dubbed Crawdad) is curled up in the easy chair. The only thing missing from the scene is his beau. 

Just as he’s taking off his shoes, a watery, strange melody reaches him, carrying images on it’s back. 

He grabs a bag from beneath the bed, takes a few minutes to ready himself, and then hurries down into his boat and off towards the sea. 

The song leads him to a secluded corner of Kepler Bay, the singer coming to circle his boat with a grin.

“Thought that kinda song was only for warnin me someone’s gonna sink.” He leans over the side of the boat, Indrid popping up to kiss him.

“There is no rule that says I must use my powers only to see danger and not, ah, what you and I shall be getting up to tonight.” Indrid’s tail glows a deep, content blue, “then again, it seemed some of them shifted after I called to you. Is there-”

“Close your eyes. No peekin’” Duck grins when Indrid splashily slaps his hands over his eyes, ears quivering with interest. 

The human shucks his clothes, hopping over the side to join the merman in the water, which comes just past his shoulders. 

“Okay, open ‘em.”

Indrid does, trills brightly when he sees what Duck’s done. 

“You have painted yourself!” He strokes the stripes of red on Ducks cheeks, the blue on his arms.

“Yep. Had Dani bring me some of those paints just for this. Go ahead, take a look at the rest.” 

The mer dips below the water, intrigued and Duck watches his fin, tail, and ear-frills rise and fall through the surface as he swims around him, fingers brushing his legs and tail caressing his belly. Hears him click happily as he takes in the red strip Duck (barely) managed on his back, the blue and silver on his legs leading to more red at his toes. 

“You matched me.” Indrid whispers, love pouring off him like water as he surfaces. 

“That’s what bonded mers do.” Duck draws him close, kissing him as his tail twines around his legs. 

“So they do. Oh my pet, whatever did I do to deserve you?”

“Be the finest mer in the seven seas?”

Indrid snickers, nips his shoulder playfully.

“Be someone who didn’t let bein’ an omen of doom stop him from doin’ the right thing?”

Another laugh, this time followed by a kiss, Indrid’s tongue teasing along his lips when he pulls back. 

“Be the man I marry?”

Indrid blinks, ears flicking back and forth as he scans the human’s face for signs of a joke. Finding none, he surges forward, knocking Duck off his feet and catching him in his arms, kiss tasting of salt air and coated in a thousand promises. 

“Yes” He murmurs as he pulls back, “I like the sound of that explanation rather a lot.”

\-----------------------------------------------

And that is why, on porches in the evening or coffee-houses in the morning, you will hear people tell stories of the unusual goings on of Kepler Bay. Stories about how, if one listens closely, one can hear a strange song, it’s notes filled with images of mers and humans living side by side, bathed in love. Of one particular human, laying on his dock or rowing out to sea, and the red-eyed mer who rises to greet him. It is said those who hear the song feel warmth within them for many hours after. 

Or so the stories go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for reading. Keep your eyes peeled for the next fic in the coming days: it's going to be Austen. I mean, uh, awesome.


End file.
